Educating Emma
by Bond.Jane
Summary: Emma finds it difficult to adapt to the White court: She has her foot permanently in her mouth, the manners of a peasant and a family that covets Snow's throne is out to eliminate her. There is only one person capable of teaching Emma what she needs to survive: the very same Regina Snow has kept secretly imprisoned for the last year. Set in FTL 1 year after the curse breaks. AU
1. Prologue

Author's note: This story started as one shot based on Emma's promotional picture for Season 2, the one with all the dresses around her (See story cover on the site's full version). It spiralled out of control from a one shot to 45.000 words, give or take. The good news is that it is ready and needs only a little TLC and editing.

I do hope you enjoy. It was great fun writing this story.

Much love

Jane

* * *

Prologue

The Queen walked down the dark corridors of the dungeons, her step firm and purposeful, unhurried because queens don't run. She turned corner after corner designed to keep the prisoners in and the curious out. She wished briefly that her dungeon was not such a cliché with mice and rats scurrying around and screams and plaintive cries coming from the darkened cells. It bothered her, cast a dark shadow on the days she bothered coming down this way.

Most of them would be out in short order. There was only one permanent prisoner in her dungeon. She stood in the shadows a little while, observing. It was a little ritual of hers, to study the hunched form, the slump of the shoulders, the breathing that was beginning to rattle a little, probably due to almost a year of the damp conditions of the cells.

She always managed to surprise the prisoner. And it gave her a little jolt of pleasure to see the way those shoulders would contract at the sound of her voice and then snap into a semblance of arrogance she could see right through. "Regina!"

Yes, the way Regina startled at her voice gave her a little jolt of pleasure Snow was not proud of but which was pleasure none the less. It went a good way towards avenging those 28 lost years.

"Snow, dear. Welcome!"

"Thank you, Stepmother."

"What brings you by? A spot of torture? Some choice of harsh words? I know! Another little accusation?"

For a while, Snow had carefully fed the hope that she would break the Evil Queen, that she would get a heartfelt apology or a show of remorse. She would settle for a platitude or two, but nearly a year gone by and she got nothing more than a recoil at the sound of her voice. For all the rest, she could well be visiting the Evil Queen or the Mayor of Storybrooke and the deportment would have been the same: arrogant and self satisfied, no matter how squalid the conditions of the dungeon were in comparison with the mayoral mansion, no matter the drabness of the dress or the hair falling lank into a face that was now sallow and gaunt. She timed her visits so that no pattern could be discerned- just in case Regina had been looking for one. She liked the surprise effect.

"I came to offer you a deal."  
"Hum. Interesting. Thank you, dear, but no, thank you."

"Aren't you even remotely curious?"

"No"

"Disappointing, Stepmother."  
"Stop calling me that, Snow, dear, unless you want to remain a cliché. There are no Imax cinemas in the Enchanted Forest, no one to see your tears in HD."

"Okay, Regina, here it is. Would you like to see Henry?"

The Queen could see she had hit a raw nerve. Regina had not seen Henry in very nearly a year, since having been dumped from Storybrooke into the heart of the Enchanted Forest. On their abrupt and unexpected return, James had simply grabbed a still unconscious Regina and slammed her into the first cell of the dungeon he had come across.

Regina walked to a chair at the back of the cell and sat as if all fight had abandoned her." That is cruel and unusual punishment, Snow, dear. Using my son… Be careful not to lose your moral high ground."

Definitely on the using Henry, probably on the punishment, Snow thought. But only because, sadly, they had not lost all memories of their time in Storybrooke and still had all these ideas in their heads of living in a- if token- democracy. The Enchanted Forest was definitely not Maine. "We are not in Kansas anymore, Toto!" No, they weren't and justice was different and swift here. This arrangement went a little way to alleviate the twinge of guilt at seeing her that way. Almost as if she was wasting away, the black, drab, long dress hanging from her as if, all gumption gone, Regina was dead and buried under the weight of the time spent in that dark cell. But still and always unbroken.

"Perhaps. But as you know, the ends justify the means. I have a problem I need to sort and I am willing to offer a twofold reward."

"I am not interested, Snow."  
"Shame, because Henry does miss you."

"Don't use my son, Snow." Regina warned with a snarl. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be able to distract him."

"Naturally. But I said twofold reward. Do what I ask and I will free you. A cottage, material comfort, and Henry will visit you whenever he wants to."

"Perhaps there is something wrong with your hearing. Has age finally caught up with you, Snow? I am not interested. Being a prisoner of the White Queen has its perks: this is hardly the Bastille: I have books, food and entertainment every time you bring a sniveling prisoner down here. You wanted me to pay for my many sins. A few days short of one year, I'm sure, does not do you justice. So leave me to pay for what I have done. It is worse punishment to have to hear your whinny, goody two-shoes voice. It grates on my nerves."

The Queen was sorely tempted to take that as her leave. Walk away and on her way out give orders to remove all light, food and entertainment from the cell. That would push things nicely along in the direction she wanted. But Regina was stubborn and she would probably starve herself before she would give in.

"We will talk again. Soon."

"Let me know and I will have tea ready for you, dear."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

When Snow's soft footsteps faded, Regina finally allowed tears. She gave herself a minute, no more, for those tears.

Snow knew well how to press her, her soft spot. Love was her weakness, truly it was. When that minute was over, she scrubbed her face clean and took a deep breath.

She would not think of Henry. She would not. That was the long and short of it. She took her current book (Snow was, for the most part, a gracious host, tethered as she was all those notions of good and evil- at least when in public) and gave her use of the library books. She seemed to try her hardest to bring her only the drabbest, most lackluster books, but she was not in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She tried for the best part of an hour, but could not concentrate. Henry floated as a ghost before her, she heard his voice clearer than she usually did in her dreams. She tried. She really did.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The Queen walked the winding damp corridors yet again. She had tried, she really had. She had tried all options available- but here she did not seem to have that many available. And that was why she was coming to Regina again. This was a last resort. And she was willing to push it to the limit.

"Stepmother!"

This time there was no flinching. Maybe she had made some noise. Or maybe Regina was expecting her. Be that as it may, it robbed her a little of the satisfaction of seeing that involuntary movement that, more than the jail sentence, more than controlling the woman's every minute, was her vengeance. But she bit her tongue and concentrated on the endgame.

"If you have come to enquire about my satisfaction with the facilities, then be assured I have no complaints, dear Snow. I find it exactly to my liking."

"Good to know." Would the defiance ever stop? "But I am here about our deal."

"We have no deal to talk about. I thought I had made that abundantly clear on your last visit."

"Indeed. But I am as stubborn as you. I need your help. I would not be here if I didn't. "

"There is nothing you can promise me, Snow."  
"That cannot be true. I am sure there are things you want, things you need. Things you hope for."

"I really think you should have your hearing checked. There is nothing I need, the accommodation is quite considerate and really, Snow, I expect nothing more from life. So no, there is nothing I want, nothing I desire, nothing I hope for. In a word, nothing you can trade."

Snow refused to hear the quiet desperation in those words. She refused and that was all. But she was desperate enough to talk about her own.

"I will do anything for my daughter. Please help me." Regina raised her head softly. Snow had peaked her interest. "You are the only one that can help her."

"Is she sick?"

"Do not get your hopes up, Stepmother. She is not sick. But she does need help. And I think you are the only one that can."

"Do you not get tired of the sound of your own voice? Honestly."

"She is hopeless, Regina. She does not know how to live here. She does not understand court politics, she has her foot permanently and well stuck in her mouth. She creates conflicts, she is the butt of every joke."

"Well, an apple never falls far from the tree. Maybe you should have chosen a better half for the gene pool." Snow wanted to growl. She bit her lip instead. "Can't blame the girl though. She did not get to live as a princess before. And her father is, after all, a peasant. A good looking one, but a peasant."

Snow pulled back for a second, enough to make Regina believe that she had won the round and get that possessive instinct under control. Scathing Emma and Charming in one sentence was _almost_ more than she could bear.

"Do you remember my father's family?" The Queen was sure Regina did remember. They had been particularly nasty to her, remarking on her origin as something to be pitied first and mocked second. "There are rumors that they will make a move on the throne. None are so happy I have ascended as queen. I believe they are more than rumors. There is movement among the nobility and the neighboring kingdoms. And you know what that means in this land. They will stop at nothing to get to the throne. They will walk over me, over Emma. over Henry. They will push Emma out of their way because she is the weakest link. By any means necessary. They believe they can cower me into abdicating by hurting her. Which is true. I will not risk Henry if they hurt Emma. No throne is worth my child's life. But they will hurt her first." She could see understanding in Regina's eyes. But the woman's expression did not change. "She needs allies in the court, allies in the friendly kingdoms. She needs to anticipate, to see them coming at her. If she does not get her act together, her life is forfeit."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina remembered the family well. A bunch of inbred power hungry vultures that had made humiliating her a sport. Not that Leopold cared. He seemed to have selective hearing. So did Snow, come to think of it. There was a nice parallel in there, vaguely satisfying. But she did not share Snow's optimism that they would go after Emma only. The Enchanted Forest was only enchanting in fairy tales. In the flesh, it was a vicious and deadly.

She would probably live to regret this. No good deed goes unpunished. "So what do you have me teach her?"

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow was not prepared for the wave of relief that hit her. She grabbed hold of the bars to sustain herself up. After a shaky breath that she hoped Regina had not perceived all the way back in her darkened corner, she prepared for the difficult part.

"Everything."

"Excuse me?"

"Everything. All that you learnt when you came into the palace."

"You do not want her to learn _all _that I had to learn."

No. Probably she didn't. Snow was well aware that Regina had had to learn in a sink or swim fashion, no one to cushion the blows and only the loneliness of an arranged marriage for company. Her father's nights in her reluctant bed. No, probably not all that Regina had had to learn. Snow took a key from her bodice and opened the cell. She walked and approached Regina, touched her shoulder where she sat.

"If you want this, Stepdaughter, do not touch me. DO not dare pitying me. I'd sooner bite your hand off."

Maybe she would, Snow thought. But even worse, maybe she'd refuse. She drew her hand back. "Please. Make her strong. Teach her to charm and scheme. Teach her to smile when she wants to kill. Teach her not to take the bait. Teach her to defend herself. She only knows how to attack in the open. They will destroy her." The Queen breathed because she could feel herself hyperventilating. "Please."

Regina remained impassive, but the Queen knew her. She knew her from when they were both little more than children. She waited for a spark of that girl that had saved her from a runaway horse and taught her about true love.

"I had magic."

And the Queen had paid handsomely to take it away from Regina now, to leave her without magic in this cell. The remark did not sound like a rebuke or a request. And that was odd. But the Queen had come prepared to listen to every nuance, every inflection, every manipulation. And she heard none. Only a reminder that Regina survived because she'd used magic to save her life.

"So teach her magic."

"Aren't you afraid of what I might teach her?"

"Yes. But I am more concerned with what might happen otherwise. You can have your magic back."

"You _are _that desperate."

"I am."

"Why don't you have them all exterminated like the rodents they are?"

"No great loss there, I agree. But it is not our way…"

"Right, because you are the good ones. You'd rather risk your daughter's life than take decisive action…" Regina sighed as if she was tired. She probably was. "It is your greatest weakness, you know, that notion that you are good people."

"You should be thankful for that notion."

"I have my days, dear." Regina adjusted her dress. No bodice or lace, no silk or design. Just plain black wool that helped her melt into the anonymity of the stone walls where the Queen kept her prisoner, hidden from even her daughter. "Fine, bring her down."

Snow had to stop herself from falling at Regina's feet. Emma would learn, she was sure, and it would save her life. She should be on her knees kissing Regina's hands. "Thank you." That was all. "Thank you."

Regina retreated into a darker corner and Snow left the way she had come in, not bothering to lock the cell behind her. It was not like Regina could go anywhere anyway.

.

.

Snow made arrangements. She was good with that sort of practical thing: she recalled the fairies to the palace to lift the enchantments that hindered Regina's magic and had chambers prepared for her. She walked the corridors and took measurements before deciding on a set for Regina. She didn't want her too close to her family. She didn't want her too far either, in case Emma needed her magic. She arranged for a cottage in the woods, far from the village, far from the castle. She wondered if it would perhaps be better to send both Emma and Regina into the cottage, get Emma away from the Palace until she was ready.

In the end, she opted for the chambers across the hall from Emma's and against the cottage. Emma would be safer there (especially with a platoon of guards outside the door) but she was not willing to give up her daughter for anything, nor to show Emma as weak, in need of hiding.

And with all the arrangement in place, she had only to tell Emma that she would have Regina as a tutor and Henry that his mother was alive and well and right under his sad nose. And that was something she postponed as much as she could and then, in a moment of cowardice, decided it was probably best to confront everybody with a fact and hope for the best.

She got her personal guard to go and get Regina and bring her to her presence, trying hard to dismiss the feeling that once again she was plucking Regina out of her comfort zone to do her bidding when the good, kind thing to do would be to set her free.

It felt a lot like when she was a child, seeing Regina getting ready for her wedding: a real life doll that she could play with at whim. Of course, that was a moment of clarity that she did her best to ignore. The ends, the ones for the greater good, especially, sometimes justify the means.

Right?


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Regina was in no hurry to leave her cell. It was not so bad down here and better the devil you know that the one you don't. She would not admit it lightly, but one year in a dungeon without sunshine or wind or fresh air, a year of missing her son had broken her more than she showed. If she looked carefully, she had to grudgingly admit that she was running on fumes and that, sooner or later, she would break. Still, there was the problem that Emma might well decide to chop her head off and Henry… well, Henry was entitled, more than anyone alive to hate her and she was just too afraid to actually have it spelt out to her. She liked being able to pretend a lot of things. There are times when self deception is acceptable and recommended by the doctor.

She knew her time was over when the Queen's guard came for her, pristine red coat, complete with breast plate and a sword so shiny it shone in the dungeon. He opened the unlocked door (Snow seemed to know instinctively that the worst prison is the one inside) and moved into her cell and, without even giving her the time to get up, took her by the arm and all but dragged her through the winding corridors and up the narrow stairs and into the corridors illuminated so brightly it hurt her eyes.

He stopped when he stood before the Queen, with a shove on her arm and back, clearly intended to make her kneel, pushed her to face his Queen. She was surprised when Snow moved to stop her fall, holding her bodily and helping her regain her footing. Regina did not have Emma Swan's famed lie detector skill, but she knew it was not a ruse. And neither was the apology Snow proffered.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"I'm sorry, Regina. He should not have done that." Snow knew she whined a little when she apologized and, usually, she made a conscious effort to model her voice so it would not come out that way, but she was nervous and well, there it was, she felt 10 years old again and it was as if nothing had changed with Regina still dressing beneath Snow's royal status and yet, all Snow could seem to want was to get on her good graces, to command Regina's affections. As if time and life and Storybrooke were not between them. She tried to take Regina's arm but was pushed away. Her guard reacted but was stilled with one flick of her hand.

She took a deep breath. "These are your chambers. Emma's are just across the hall. Henry's are next door to hers." She moved around the room, making a show of opening windows until Regina recoiled from the light, her eyes blinking hard. Maybe Emma had gotten the whole foot in mouth from her after all. "You'll find a wardrobe for you through that door." And as Regina made no motion, Snow moved and opened the walk in closet to show her a selection of dresses hanging. She wished Regina did not seem slightly overwhelmed. This was not the Regina she knew and that unsettled her. "Emma should be coming in any time now. Maybe you could change before we see her?"

"Afraid I might not match the decoration, Snow dear?"

Something like that, Snow thought but she did not need to reply. They both knew that if Emma saw Regina in that shabby black dress she would know, without a doubt, where Regina had been all along.

"I must ask you, Regina, not to tell Emma or Henry where you have been."  
"Oh? What should I tell them, then? That I've been in Paris or Rome, perhaps?"

"Nothing. I would prefer them not to know."

"Of course, dear."

"And to ensure that," The Blue Fairy came into the room at that moment as if she had been waiting for her cue to enter the stage. "We ask you to sign this contract." The fairy handed the roll of parchment and quill to Regina. "It sets out that you will be free once this is done, that you will have your magic back from now onwards and, very important, that you will not disclose where you have been nor where you will go once we have put this mess behind our backs and the Princess is suitably _trained._

"As you can see, it is a magical contract." The fairy added. "Neither party can do anything but what is set out in the contract. Even if they try. Both parties are suitably protected."

It was a veiled insult to Regina, Snow heard it in the challenge in the fairy's sweet voice, but she was not going to undermine her.

Regina read through the contract. "If any of the parties breaks any of the set out in the contract, they'll pay with their life." The fairy added with something akin to glee. Regina read through the contract, looked out of the window, eyes narrowed against the light, and signed it. Snow wished she knew what her stepmother was thinking about. It would not appear she was considering any break out clauses. She too signed the parchment and then folded it and spirited it away into the folds of her off white dress.

.

.

Regina did change into one of the new dresses. It was not a drab black wool dress. But it was a far cry from her wardrobe of the old days. Which was good. Snow had taken great care with the choice. She did not want to be reminded of Regina, the Evil Queen nor of Regina, the Stepmother. She wanted something like a lady in waiting for Emma. The light green dress would do just fine. "What do you think?"

"I think I liked the black one better." Regina sighed dramatically. "Honestly dear…"

"Come, let me show you Emma's chambers before she comes in.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina looked around her, the soft tones, the grand bed and the full length mirror. A red jacket she would recognise anywhere worn over the shoulders by an empty suit of armor. The princess' chambers. Well, then. It would seem that the former sheriff had not taken to royalty or to the grandeur of her new station.

And then she heard Emma and Henry's laughter fast approaching the room and Snow's sigh. It would appear, Regina thought, that the Queen had not told her daughter she was to have a tutor.

This might just get interesting.

She braced herself for the impact of seeing her son for the first time in a year. Of being seen. She pushed at her hair and took a steadying breath of air. But no matter what she did, her heart was still pounding away painfully in her chest.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow thought she was prepared for everything. Evidently, she was not. Henry ran to his mother and stopped short in front of her, clearly torn between what his heart wanted and what his head told him was right. She was also not prepared for the way Emma simply elbowed him towards Regina, a simple gesture, of an instinctive kindness she, herself, was not capable off. Henry simply fell into Regina's arms and hugged her silently. And neither was she prepared for the tears that she saw falling freely from Regina's eyes. She kept on expecting the worse from the woman.

Emma, for her part, was just there, looking between Regina and Snow and the Queen knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Emma would have questions and that she would just ask them over and over again until she could eventually ferret out the truth. And that was a can of worms she did not particularly want to open. Hence the contract. The magic woven into it would prevent both her and Regina from disclosing the truth. No matter how persistent or inventive Emma got.

When Regina managed to look up from Henry, she had herself under control enough to face Emma. "Miss Swan." Her arms closed around Henry's back, her hands tracing soft lines up and down the boy's back.

It would forever break Snow's heart how Emma smiled such small smiles as if she was permanently waiting to be pushed out of the way.

"Where have you been?"

And there you had it why a contract was needed and why Regina was a necessary evil: that directness from Emma that saved nothing, never waited for a better moment, always damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead. It would get her killed. And on this one occasion would have Snow falling from grace.

"It's been a year. Did you not worry about Henry?"

"Emma, come on!" Henry tried to placate her from between his mother's arms.

"Could you not at least have let us know that you were okay? What the hell, Regina!"

Regina simply measured Emma, top to bottom. "The air in the Enchanted Forrest did wonders for your complexion, Miss Swan. Or should I say _Your Highness_?" She spoke through a throat clearly tight around her voice.

"You can take the titles and shove them, Regina. Where the hell have you been?"

"You were not joking, Snow."

"I never do."

"Clearly. You should work on your sense of humor, though."

Emma got antsy and Snow knew her well enough to see it, that impatience, that nervous energy crackling under her skin. If Emma had not been her child, if they were still only friends, Snow would have told her to get laid. But Emma was her child and she didn't even want to think those kinds of thoughts.

"Regina will be staying with us for a while, Emma." Her not so little princess stuffed her hands in the pockets of her almost jeans and looked mutinous. She could not disguise an emotion to save her life and that would have to change. "She is here to… _work_… with you on a few things." Still no answer. The explosion might just be of epic proportions. "Like huh… politics and a little magic, if you'd like. You know… make you…"

"More like the pretty little princess that I did not turn out to be? I know I'm a disappointment, but to get _her_ here? For this? What the hell, Snow."

"Emma…" There it was, the whinny tone again that she could not seem to get under control. "I cannot seem to teach you anything. Regina is… oddly appropriate."

"Really? What is she going to be able to teach me? How to bake poisonous apple turnovers?"

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It was mean. Emma did not do mean. Not deliberately anyway. But coming home- or as home as a palace could be- and finding Regina of all people standing there with her mother (also of all people) made her lose it. And by lose it she meant the notion of proportions and of limits. Over the past year, she had thought often about Regina and that devastation she had witnessed as the curse broke in that hospital room. She had thought little about all that Regina had done, all those months before and was simply devastated by the tears she had shed when Henry lay dead in that bed. That was the Regina – the one that had chosen her son over the health of the curse- she remembered, the one she thought about. The one she often imagined could have been saved. The one she lamented as dead because the fact that she had not been where Henry was (no matter what) could only mean death. She lost it because she felt betrayed, a little. Lied to, even. Funny that!

And then, Princess Emma did a truly Emma Swan thing she was not in the habit of doing anymore: she studied her mark. She took in the weird dress and the skanky hair and the sallow skin and how the woman blinked when the light hit her eyes.

That same instinct that made her push Henry to his mom (hey, she might have birthed him but she was still struggling with the whole motherhood concept) made her bite her tongue before lashing out. That and the way Regina simply deflected the blow as if Emma had merely remarked on the weather. As if witches did not have hearts.

_God, stop the internal monologue_, because she was dead sure that Snow and Regina were on about something about tutoring someone and she could only think back to all the remedial classes in high school when some Good Samaritan of a teacher had though they could save her from herself and put in the extra time. She hated one on one classes. She hated them with a passion almost as much as she had fallen slightly in love with each and every one of those Samaritans (and oh god, where had that random thought come from anyway. _Crap_.)

And there you go. The key words were almost the same- manners and politics and magic and all Emma could think about was that her life was being written by Stephen King's slow brother or something and that she needed a stiff drink the likes of which the Enchanted Forrest could not yet produce. Were it that someone would teach her the fine art of distilling something three times.

She grabbed her head because it was starting to hurt and it felt like there were bees inside, buzzing and buzzing and it hurt.

Snow decided it was good time to be a friend instead of a mother and walked away with a "See you at dinner." She did that, Snow. She acted like a mother when she wanted to and like a friend when she needed it and it got Emma confused. As if having a mother her own age was not confusing enough. She was left in her room with Henry still holding on to his mom and Regina soaking up the affection and she was like a spare wheel and she felt like hiding in a cupboard or something equally effective.

Eventually, Henry seemed to come to his pre-adolescent senses and let go of Regina. He took one look at Emma and decided, him too, that it was a good time to give her privacy (which was something he seemed to have very little notion of anyway) and go and bathe before dinner. "Will I see you later, mom?"

"Yes, Henry." And the door closed behind their son.

"Will I see him later?" Regina asked softly when the door closed behind Henry, hopeful and heartbroken in one breath.

The only person that remained in her room was the one person she did not know what to do with, what to say to, what to think of.

Emma simply nodded. Of course.

Regina's painful exhale was thank you enough.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina would have agreed to almost anything Snow had said just as long as Henry was holding on to her like that because her body still had not forgotten how love her child in that way that the world fades into a background. Even if just for a little while.

And then Snow was gone and Henry seemed to have come to his senses and walked away as well and there she was, alone in a room with Emma who seemed to be sulking. Well, this was it, she had taken over her charge, she was a tutor, a nanny, a teacher. Call it what you will, but Emma Swan was hers to protect and teach. And surprisingly, she found she would probably end up doing all those things simply because Emma had elbowed Henry into her arms without a second thought. And because she had saved Henry back in Storybrooke when Regina had almost caused his death.

Good lord, she would do those things for Emma, not for Snow. Snow could drop off the face of the earth and she would not give it a passing thought, but it was not so easy to dismiss Emma.

She looked about the room for a minute trying to come up with something to say, something to break the ice, because just walking away was out of the question. She had been walked out on enough times to know that no matter how much it looks like you want to be alone, sometimes all you need is for someone to stay and cut you down to size.

She approached Emma with every intention of sitting by her side and do what normal, affectionate people do and perhaps take her hand or something nice like that, but found that her eyes were too sensitive to the bright, bright sun of the end of afternoon coming in through Emma's enormous window. The only position left was facing Emma, her back mercifully to the sun.

For a moment she thought only of how good it felt, to be that warm again. And when she was ready to reach out and touch Emma's shoulder, the Princess spoke.

"How bad is it?"

Regina could not pretend that she didn't understand. Sure, she could go with a surprised _Excuse me_ but there are times when the only thing worth anything is honesty.

"Pretty bad, if I remember them correctly."

"This is like shock therapy, right? To bring you over from wherever you've been. This is supposed to shock me into doing what she wants, isn't it?"  
"A little more than that."

Emma stood and walked to the window and stared at the forest stretching below it. She could have had any room. There were rooms with views of the snowy mountains and rooms with views of the deep blue lake. Regina wondered what had made Emma choose the forest. The light was blinding to her eyes accustomed to the darkness. Emma turned.

"You mean magic."

"Not only but also. It can save your life."

"How do you figure?"

"It saved mine." Regina replied gratefully when Emma turned to the window and closed the heavy drapes bringing a soothing darkness to the room.

Regina was grateful because there was no way that Emma had not seen her discomfort with the light and still, she made no remark on it. She wondered why she did not apply that insightfulness to court life.

"She did not give you much time, did she?" Emma queried. A simple question that were it not for the contract, Regina would have replied to just out of distraction, because it was asked in that fluid manner that could have been used to order a coffee at the diner. But the contract was there and her throat just would not work. She knew well enough the consequences of breaking magical contracts, though. She merely answered "No."

"I may not look like the sharpest knife in the drawer, Regina, but there are things I don't need spelt out for me." She took a lock of Regina's unkempt hair in her hand to illustrate her point. "God save us from the good decent folk, huh? Go have a bath. I need one too. We can talk about politics and manners and magic tomorrow, okay?"

And it was after probably the best bath in her whole life that Emma started a very long tradition of surprising her: she took Regina by a bony wrist and took her to the dining hall. With her hand at the small of Regina's back, she pushed a chair next to her and offered her a seat under the withering gaze of all those sat at the table, starting with Snow and ending with the youngest of the members of the council gathered for that night's supper. Every single one darting daggers with their eyes and Emma simply ignoring them and serving Regina's plate before she even served her own.

It was a clear demonstration of all that Regina would have to help her get rid off- Emma's kind, honest heart.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was impossible to sleep. There was the excitement of kissing Henry goodnight. There was no trickling of water somewhere nearby, no moaning from people in other cells, the mattress was soft to a fault, not the straw one she had grown used to in the last year and the thoughts in her head were not the same ones of the last 360 odd nights before. Where she had filled her nights with regret and absence, she now filled them with regret and worry. She worried for Henry, of course. But in a strange twist of events, she worried for Emma. The woman that had saved her son – and she could not even begin to measure how much she owed Emma for that - was the princess the dragons were after slaying now. No one deserved to be hurt by the vultures that the White Kingdom spawned and bred. And she worried she might have lost what she needed to teach Emma: the ability to influence, to work in the shadow, to manipulate. Regina worried she had spent far too long getting things her own way by sheer force to still remember how to steer events, how to play the game. She worried her wits had dulled because her weapon of choice had been fear rather than wit.

She went to the window, then, no sun to blind her, the darkness at least something she was accustomed to. She would have the magic. It was part of the contract. She couldn't feel it yet. But soon it would come and she would feel it in her fingers, in her heart. She could use that.

It was her job to keep Emma safe. By teaching her, by training her, by changing her. It was a strangely depressing prospect, given how much Emma had annoyed and aggravated her every single one of her days in Storybrooke, but to change that heart was just… wrong. She didn't really have a choice, just like she had no choice at keeping her silence. She wasn't quite sure she was okay with that. It meant she could see Henry. It mean out of that hole. It meant a cottage in the woods somewhere once Emma had become indistinguishable for every other courtier.

It meant peace.

"I can't sleep!" Emma barged in after a perfunctory knock on her door.

"So what do you suggest? That we braid each other's hair and have a pajama party?"

"Ah, always so warm and welcoming… Can magic be learnt?"  
"Some of it."  
"How much?"

"Enough. Other is inherent. Natural magic." Emma plopped down on the bed.

"Can either of those produce a bottle of Jack?"

"Jack?"

"Or Jim. Or Johnny. Any of my boys. I'm not too particular."

"Unsurprising! Sorry, but not today. But I can teach you meditation. You need to relax. To open yourself up to magic."

"You don't strike me as the type that mediates. And I'd rather get drunk, anyway."

"Maybe this is a good time for your first lesson: filter."

"Triple?"  
"If that's what it takes. Don't say everything that comes to your mind."

"That would be a waste of thoughts."

"Hardly a danger there. "

"Aw… look who found a funny bone!"

"Perish the thought. If apples have not been banned, you could try some cider."

"Not banned but… frowned upon." Emma gave her a rueful smile. "Maybe you can make me feel drunk."

"Not tonight, dear."

"Headache?" If it was a joke, it was lost on Regina. But she was tired. This had been a very eventful day for someone who had been in her particular situation for so long.

And bless her, Emma noticed.

"Okay, go to sleep."

"See you tomorrow, Princess."

"Can it with the title, Your Majesty." Emma fired as a parting shot.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Jane Eyre." Emma shot when she saw Regina coming into her chambers the following morning.

"What?" Regina's hand shot to her hair in a subdued bun at the nape of her neck.

"The hairdo. You look like Jane Eyre in the book cover."

"Oh... I was trying to match it to the dresses."

"Yeah… about that…"

"Filter, Princess. Filter."

"You keep saying that." Emma sighed dramatically

"You keep ignoring it."

"What's the point then?"  
"Of what?" Regina could play clueless as well as the next girl.  
"Of the Princess title."

"Ah. Well, did your mommy not tell you? Rarely have titles been a free pass. Normally, they are more of a hindrance."

"Great." Emma bristled. "Any side benefits?"  
"Indoor bathrooms?"

"Yeah, one. Greatest handicap?"  
"Trying to keep your head attached to your shoulders?"  
"Well observed." Emma sighed and turned impatiently on her heel and jumping into her Enchanted Forest version of jeans.

"Are we going to keep on playing 20 questions?"  
"We can always braid each other's hair… Now seriously. The hair. Makes you look sad." And she pulled her own into a pony tail.

"How about we call it _non-threatening_?"  
"Rather have the backbone..." Emma mumbled loud enough to be heard and walked in front of Regina towards their dreaded lessons.

The following morning, Regina spent a little longer pulling her hair into an elaborate hairstyle of thin braids running down the sides to the back of her head. It was as close as she would ever again look like she was 19 and about to be married off to the highest bidder. 28 years of short hair and hairspray had made her lose her hand at this. That and the fact she did not have her own handmaiden. It was not about Emma.

No, not in the least.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Miss Swan!" Regina's voice echoed through the grand hall of heavy gilded pictures, a little impatient, a lot annoyed.

"What?"

"Concentrate."

"This is pointless." Emma could _hear_ Regina's eye roll.

"Learn their names. Their little peccadilloes. I promise you, it will come in handy."

"Maybe they changed. It _has_ been 29 years." Regina stuffed her hands in the pockets of the lose dress, her impatience tightly under control but visible nonetheless.  
" A leopard does not change its spots." Even Emma had to agree with that. So she just stood a little straighter wondering if Henry's lessons were as boring as hers. "Besides. Time here has not been dissimilar to that of Storybrooke."

"In tiny little words for those of us who barely made it through high school, please."

"Well, at least you said _please_." Regina sighed. "Time has not left any mark on them." Regina went back to the portraits on the wall, pointing names and proclivities. Drake, the sodomite. Edwina, the one faithful only to her mistress. Whom, unbeknownst to her, she shared with her husband Drake who had trouble keeping his hands to himself even in polite company. Making the mistress, Hazel, the single most influential person during their rule, with a penchant for chocolate, pound cakes and known to enjoy the occasional naked ride (horseback and otherwise) under the moonlight. Rowena, the bitter, and her husband, King Sebastian, who could not see eye to eye with Drake- and might be a good ally. Their marriageable son, Roderick, on all accounts tall, dark and handsome, perfect prince charming material (if only he weren't so formidably conceited and full of himself). Alfred and Alvin (or Chip and Dale, Emma monikered them), the dangerous oddball sons to Drake and Edwina. Who was actually Rowena's step sister. Or something like that. The only names that stuck were Chip and Dale. The rest was a blur.

"Do they even look like the portraits? I mean, how on earth am I going to recognise them?"  
"I'll point them out to you."  
"Won't they recognise you?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."  
"Sure. Because we can cross a bridge before we get to it." Emma rubbed tiredly at her head.

"Miss. Swan." Regina punctuated each of the words. It had the power to stop Emma in her tracks. Not that she would admit it. "Emma. These people, these pathetically inbred miscreants want the throne your mother sits on. The throne Henry will inherit after you. They will not get to have it- and mind you that they have grown accustomed to the life style while we were away- while your mother sits on it. While you and Henry are alive. Do you know what's the easiest way for them to get their hands on it? To kill you. Or even just to hurt you. They do and your bleeding heart of a mother will abdicate to protect Henry and anything that might be left of you and guess who will humbly step up?"

Emma studied the fancy portraits in their gilded frames. "Drake and Edwina?"

"The very same sodomite."

"Why don't we just drown them, all? Perfectly good lake out there."

"Finally someone with good, common sense. But you forget that you are the _savior_, the White Knight. You do not kill people, isn't it? The good ones and all that…"  
"Someone touches Henry and all bets are off."  
"Sure. Are you positive you want to let it come to that? If they don't see you as strong and capable, you stand little chance of protecting Henry. With narrow minded people such as your delightful relatives, perception _is _everything. Remember: they have an army, well trained. Hungry enough. You want them to believe that you are strong enough. Hell, committed enough to stay in the throne."

"Do they respect commitment that much?"

"No. But they will have to measure up to you and fear for their lives."

"That can be arranged…"

"Show them that you want this as much as they do. That's the only thing they fear. Any weakness- even temper lost- that's all they need to know they have a shot at you. You give them an inch, they will they a mile."

"Geez, don't spare my feelings or anything."  
"This is not about feelings. Your mother could have imparted this wisdom far easier, far more complacently than I. But you did not care to heed it because she spared your little… sensibilities.

"I'm not going to defend Snow White of all people to you. But I am going to impart a pearl of wisdom here, _Princess_: You want your head on your shoulders, you want Henry alive- because they will not stop at killing you, despite what your mother thinks- you better get to know them. Learn how to play their game on their own terms- lie, cheat, double cross- because, I'm sorry to say, they have the home advantage. They know, I'm sure, all there is to know about you, every single soft spot. And you are one big soft spot."

"What, then? What do I have to learn that will make us untouchable?"  
"You will not be untouchable. They are wolves and you will always have them at your throat, ready to rip it off if you so much as look away. This is not going to go away. You win this one battle, congratulations, you live to fight another one. But you will be ready to see it coming. Learn about them. Where they come from, what they like, what they are like. Learn manners. You lack them severely."  
"Hey!"

"Do you want the truth or something beautiful, Miss Swan?" Emma's head despondently lowering to her chest was answer enough. "Learn their politics, their alliances. What they want, what they are willing to do to get it. How to thwart them. How to make them believe they are no match for you. Perception is everything. And then, learn magic. Defend yourself when politics are not enough. Learn to dance."  
Emma had been slowly committing it all to memory but when she heard the word_ dance_ her knees buckled.

"What?"

"Dance."

"I know how to dance."

"Waltz? Cotillion?"  
"Moonwalk?" Regina gave her withering look. "Fine. I'll learn to dance."

"And put on a dress, will you? Show them some cleavage. They are suckers for a pair of breasts."

"Can hardly wait. One of these days you will have to tell me how you learnt all of this."

"Ask you mother, dear." And that was the subject of Regina's apprenticeship closed. No ifs, no butts.

"So… are there any allies in all of this or did I just land in an episode of Game of Thrones?" Regina's withering gaze was a powerful weapon. Emma needed to get herself one of those. "Didn't you watch any TV back home?"  
"Not if I could help it. Roderick."  
"I don't remember him in Game of Thrones."

"You do this on purpose, don't you?"

"I might... Right, okay, Roderick the rodent. Who was he again?"  
"Tall, dark and handsome behind door number three."

"Not bad." Emma studied the portrait. "Not bad at all."

"You'll be happy to know that ever since a small incident involving a young farm hand, he does not see eye to eye with either Alvin or Albert."

"Though his name was Alfred."  
"Ah, look at that, she was paying attention. I'm so proud of you, Princess." Emma blushed at the backhanded snarky compliment. "Yes, Alfred and Alvin."

"Chip and Dale."

Regina smiled despite herself. "Chip and Dale. So, it seems, that, even though he is not really in the market for marriage, he might be a viable ally."  
"Woah. You said _marriage_. Why would you say _marriage_?"

"How do you think treaties and alliances are celebrated in this land?"

"Oh hell, no."

It pained Regina to say it. It bit too close to the bone. "You'll get over it. He is quite a catch, it seems."

"Did she put you up to this? Did she _hire_ you to convince me?"

"An alliance, a marriage, is a possibility, Miss Swan, not a fact. He might not be so inclined. It's up to you to make it so."

And it seemed to Regina she could hear Emma's terrified heartbeat from where she stood. She'd do well not to get invested in Emma's future and feelings. Things were what they were. Especially with royalty.

But her heart hurt a little at Emma's devastated expression.

.

.

They had lunch in the orchard. Regina had suggested it. She was loathe to sit at the same table as the members of the council still trying to kill her with their eyes. Emma jumped on the suggestion despite the fact that it was a dark, gloomy and generally miserable winter day. Regina guessed Emma too had had enough of the stuffiness and good intentions of the council, of their inane conversation of course upon course of meats and vegetables and, according to Emma, not so much as a Hershey's bar to make up for it.

Regina studied the orchard where apple trees still grew in abandon. They had not been uprooted or mauled with axes, but they were not tended too. Some still had fruits despite the frost in the mornings and the threat of snow in the air.

She picked an apple and held it in her palm. A simple thought was all it took. The apple rose from her hand and gently danced in the air. It was more than she could bear, Emma's stunned expression, her lips parted and her hand hesitant to reach out. It made Regina smile first and laugh then. Laugh with abandon.

"Is that a spell?"

Regina lowered the apple in Emma's hand. "No. That's natural magic."

"Brilliant…"  
"You're easy."

"Hey!"

"To impress. Easy to impress. Even Henry wasn't so impressed when I showed him at bed time. Nor when he was a child. I used to hire magicians for his birthday parties. They had the same trick."

"Yeah, where I grew up, there were no magicians. Only people turning tricks." She held the apple in her hand and studied it."

"Do it." Regina asked.

"I don't know how to do tricks."

"It's not a trick. It's in you." She pulled Emma's hand to steady it flat, apple on her palm. "Concentrate on the apple. See its shape, feel its weight. Now close your eyes."

That was a bad idea, the thought occurred to Emma. As bad an idea as to close your eyes when you're intoxicated. You're just going to plant it face first sooner. But she did. She closed her eyes and then all there was were Regina's fingers on hers. The apple? Not so much.

"Now see the apple, only the apple. Not your hand, not the orchard, just the apple." The voice was hypnotic, so Emma did as she was told. She saw the apple, only the apple, as if nothing else existed. And then she messed it up. She stopped seeing the apple and started feeling it and Regina's palm holding her hand and her hand shook. The apple shook too, but that might have been because it was firmly on her hand. Emma opened her eyes because it was just too much and it frightened her.

"Sorry."

It was on the tip Regina's tongue something nice, like _it's okay, it was a good first try_ because she had seen it, the moment that apple had hovered over instead of sitting on Emma's hand. In the end, a flick of her fingers sliced the apple still in Emma's hand in two neat halves. "Eat. An apple a day keeps the doctor away."  
**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma did not lack manners. Not in the traditional American sense anyway. It's not like Regina would have been embarrassed of being seen with her or anything. Maybe Emma would look a little out of place at Le Cirque (not that she had ever been there herself, as stuck in Storybrook as anyone else) or something like that, but generally, there was nothing fundamentally wrong. It was just that, faced with a table with four forks, five knives and three spoons, she could get a little lost. Which, Regina had realised after her first dinner with the council, was not a great loss. In fact, it endeared the former sheriff dangerously to her. But. When _the family _came to visit, she would look like the ugly duckling sitting among all the swans. And that bothered Regina for some reason.

She had the table set mid afternoon, one place only, with the same formal setting as Emma was likely to find come the godforsaken visit.

When Emma arrived and took one look at the table, she turned on her heel and walked away. Regina was close to trying a binding spell. Her magic was growing stronger and it would just about be possible. But there were things she could not bring herself to do anymore. So she simply spoke what she hoped to be magic words behind Emma's retreating form: "There is chocolate."

She would have laughed at the way that stopped Emma in her tracks. But the way she whispered _Really _and it carried to Regina in a pitiful sound made her bite her lip.

"Yes."

Emma walked reluctantly towards the set place on the long table.

"Where is it?"

Regina touched one of the flowers on the centerpiece and, concentrating, turned the rose bud into a chocolate of the same shape and size. As Emma made to grab it, Regina stopped her. "That's a reward. You can have it when we're finished here."

"How do I know it's worth it?"

"Miss Swan. Would I ever produce something less than satisfactory?"

.

.

Emma struggled with the lesson. It didn't matter whether it was Regina or Snow, working through the forks counting tines or through the knives checking the shapes of the blades, was a lot like trying to read sounding out words in a foreign language in the dark: it only made her want to gouge somebody's eyes out.

Regina found it equally frustrating. Chocolate or not, Emma simply struggled through it all, using desert spoons for sauces and fish knives for butter. "Count the tines, Ms Swan. Four tines for meat, three for fish, two for salad."

How long could they keep at it, counting tines and marking positions on the table?

"Why don't you sit next to me and I'll do the same you do?"

"Because I won't be at the dinner and because you will need to sit next to at least two suitable princes."

"I'll copy what they do."

"A gentleman will always wait for the lady to begin before he does."

"This place sucks."

"Miss Swan…"

"I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I wish we hadn't come. I wish we had stayed home."

"You were born here. This should be home for you."

"Well, it's not. I don't fit in. I'm an embarrassment of giant proportions. I don't know what to do and I keep on saying the wrong thing all the time. I get up for servants and open the door to men coming in and I'm just… Everybody wants something from me, expects things from me and I… I feel like my life is a movie and I got there half an hour late. I don't know what the hell is going on and everybody is just too engrossed in the story to stop and fill me in and then just expect me to understand the plot." She plunked her head on the table and it just happened to land on the porcelain plates Regina had set, making them clunk dangerously.

"Chin up, Miss Swan."

"Thanks for the encouragement, but…"

"No, really, chin up. If you break the china, more likely than not, you're going to get cuts on you pretty princess forehead. I can do without the aggravation of having to explain that to your mother. If it makes you feel any better, I feel I'm back to where I started. About the dresses and the politics. This was home once, not anymore."

"Well, being back to where you started is not the same as never leaving."

Would it be appropriate to touch that hand that offered comfort so easily? Probably. Would it be safe, though?

_And this concludes today's lesson,_ Regina thought. Emma was tired and frustrated and nothing good was going to come out of this. So she just plucked the chocolate rose and handed it out to Emma.

"Thanks."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Say _Thank you_ instead of _thanks._"

"Sure. What fork do I eat this with?"

Emma was infuriating. She really was. "I suspect the same one you would use back home."

"Thank you."

"Most welcome, Princess."

"Share?" Emma offered.

"Are you sure?"

"No." Emma pouted. "But I guess you deserve it."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Emma wasn't sure which lesson she dreaded the most. Magic should have been play-time okay, but no matter how much she concentrated, no matter how hard she tried, the result was always the same: a big bunch of nothing happening.

She had not expected Regina to be so patient, though. And that was surprising. As was the feeling of camaraderie that strengthened with every dinner she dragged Regina to and every bedtime with Henry. It wasn't exactly like they were brothers in arms (particularly with Regina magic-slapping her hands at every wrong fork) but, Emma had to admit, there was a certain relief to have the council's attention divided between her appalling table manners and Regina's whole evil-in-the-house attitude which she amped up every dinner time. It made it less lonely. Snow had tried reasoning with her. "Try appeasing the council." Snow had told her. "She should have her meals where she feels more comfortable." She would insist. Which, probably was just one of those _diplomatic _ways of saying things that Snow wanted her to learn. They both knew everyone would feel a lot more _comfortable_ if Regina was not there. (Though where would Snow send to have her meals if the servants were, themselves, _uncomfortable_ with Regina's presence, shrinking away from her?)

It was beyond Emma why she felt the need to have Regina there. It was not so much to rub it in, but… yeah, big, huge _but_ right there. "I can copy what she's doing. I'll learn better this way." She argued every time.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

They had established a routine after sometime. To Regina's mind, this would be like when she taught Henry to walk and talk: it was all about the repetition, the routine. So in the morning they would walk the halls and discuss Drake, Edwina and Hazel (or the Three Stooges as Emma not so fondly referred to them, Rowena and her cousin worst half Sebastian (Dumb and Dumberer) and their evil spawn of misfits until Emma hated them all with a fury of a thousand suns.

As the winter days progressed, Regina considered often moving the magic lessons into the palace, but she had come to cherish those moments of freedom in the orchard. And it seemed to her that magic came easier to her if they were around the apple trees rather than cooped up in the palace, especially with Snow hovering nervously every time Regina tried a spell or an incantation no matter how minor. And all the while, the only thing that seemed to strengthen was the idea that Emma had no magic ability whatsoever. Not even enough to turn lemonade pink.

Progress was slow. And, it seemed to Regina that Emma was digging her heels like a stubborn horse, refusing to move forward.

On hindsight, things had to blow up. They were two very stubborn women living in close quarters for a very long time.

It was snowing and Emma wanted to end the magic lesson, no matter how much it fascinated her seeing apples float or chocolate appear out of thin air. She was tired, she was moody, probably pre menstrual too and she just wanted to go home where it was warm and she could hide until all the chocolate Regina bribed her with actually had time to mellow her out.

"I'm tired. And I'm cold and I want to go inside. I want my cocoa and my bed and don't want to do this anymore."

"And now you're whining. Just. Like. Mommy."

"Well, I'm entitled to it. I'm wet and cold. I wet in places that have no business being wet and cold in places I didn't know I have. Pleeeeeeaaaase!"

To her credit, Emma would think later, Regina had tried. She approached her and held her hands and told her to close her eyes and then did that little murmuring spell thingy she had tried to teach her more than once and warmed up her hands and her nose and her feet. It was instant comfort.

"Thanks. But I want to go now. I'm getting sick."

It was the last straw. The very last one.

"Can I give you some free advice, _Princess_?" Regina stopped in front of Emma effectively stopping her retreat, hands in her hips, all confrontation and challenge.

"What will it cost me?"

"Didn't I say it was free?" She was about to lose her cool, because she was doing that thing where the last word of the sentence was just so much louder than the rest.

"Yeah, but where I come from, free always ends up very expensive. Usually with you –in this case, me - in jail."

"Well, this is one is priceless, _Princess_."

"Hit me!"

"So very tempting! Well, all those Hallmark cards and all those Disney movies, you know the sort, _believe in yourself_, in your dreams, wish upon every star and throw pennies in fountains, you go on and you do all of that."

"Yeah? That's it? That's the advice?"

"_Yes_, not _Yeah_. That's the build up. Here's the punch line: you'll still end up dog meat under the boots of these bastards because they spent their time not being lazy and working hard at fucking you over." That got Emma's attention.

"Did you just swear?"

"Seriously? Is that your take away from this?"

"Maybe…" She had the grace to look sheepish.

Emma had seen Regina walking like that once, all tense and pure fury- when she had chopped down her pretty apple tree back home.

"Regina!"

Except Regina did not stop. And Emma was far too cold, far too wet, far too stubborn to follow her and apologize. Or do damage control or whatever Regina called it. She just galumphed back to her room and sat by the fire that some wonderful soul had built in there for her.

That was it. Regina was her teacher, she was getting some sort of payment for teaching her all this stuff, so, technically, she was an employee. And Emma was the princess. So Regina would have to crawl back and apologise if she wanted her job back. Otherwise she could just g back to where she'd been all this time.

And all of that was bullshit because all Emma wanted was the same she always wanted no matter how much she grew up and how much older she got- she wanted to be accepted and loved and this… Well... Shit. And Regina going back was…. She was not going. Nuh huh.

She grabbed a blanket and wrapped herself in it, pouting.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"You what?"

"I quit. You can send me back there. I'm done. She is unteachable. She is stubborn and wilful _and_ unwilling. _Must try harder _cannot even begin to cover her school report. I'm done, Snow White. If this was a brilliant idea to make me lose my mind, congratulations, this was the closest you ever got to success."

"Regina, please." Ah the whining ran the family, Regina noticed. "You cannot walk away from her. You know them as well as I do. Better, most likely. And I know it sounds frustrating, but she is making progress. I can see it. Maybe not as much as we would need her to, but…"  
"Snow, the special needs teaching may be one of your many talents, dear, but it is not, I am immensely happy to say, one of mine. As far as I'm concerned, they can toss her against a wall and hang her there like a painting. And I will still sleep soundly because I went over and above my duty. You really should have chosen a better gene pool to draw from."

"Regina… She will be dead in two weeks, then, mark my words. I know you won't do it for me, but what about Henry? Are you seriously going to deprive him of his mother?"  
"Don't you dare using my son against me! MY SON, Snow. _My son_. You may not like it…"

"You're right, I don't. But his feelings are what matters. In two weeks Emma- his mother- will be dead."

Regina knew better than going for the details. Caring had never been a good idea for her. "Why are you so adamant on the two weeks?" _So many pep talks about not caring flying right out of the window…_

Snow was not careful enough to hide the relief. She took a letter with Drake's seal from the folds of her white dress. The grand penmanship was as vulgar as the man himself, all show and arrogance. Not to mention that the wax seal itself caused her to gag.

"What is this?" She didn't want to so much as touch it.

"Oh, you know, the usual. They are stopping by for a _cordial_ visit, to get to know my daughter and my grandchild."

"Let me guess… in two weeks."

"Yes."

"Fuck!"

"Did you just swear?"

_Seriously? _If the alternative was not Drake and his troop of sadistic animals, she might as well just walk out and let them stew in their own juices.

"Yes, I swore. Your daughter is rubbing off on me. Happy?"  
"Yeah, Emma will do that… she really can get to you, huh?  
"On my very last nerve, Snow White. And we are not bonding, you hear me? Not over this nor anything else."

"No bonding, yes, absolutely."

"Two weeks. You want me to do the impossible and you give me two weeks to do it…"

"Two weeks for what?" Emma shot from the entrance of the _chair room_ which was what she called the throne room with its grand dais and gilded thrones.

"Buckle up, _Princess_, you've got two weeks to get your act together."

Emma's face was picture perfect of _I should have stayed in my room._

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The thing with the palace was that it was well, a palace. With grand rooms and long corridors and suits of armour. And secret passageways that were better than anything he'd ever read in a book. And probably it would get him time out and all sorts of grounding if she ever found out, but Henry had quickly figured out that those secret passage ways were invaluable when you're 12- going on 13 (in a few months but who's counting) and people still insist on excluding you from conversations as if you were a child.

So the take away from this was simple and scary: one, his family was deadly and they wanted to kill Emma; two, his mom could actually swear and even if she'd learnt it from Emma, and it was shocking in a way, it was just _nice_ to know she could lose it like that; three, she was the one that could actually save Emma. And fourth, wherever she'd been, Grandma Snow had the power to bring her from there and send to her back. Where the hell was that (he could swear a little too couldn't he, based on the fact that his mom now did too? Fair was fair, right?) and did Emma even know of all of the above?

He walked carefully out of the secret room and back to his lessons. _His_ tutor probably thought he had the weakest bladder in history.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She would never admit she felt relief. It wasn't that she was desperate to learn all those things she needed to learn. But she didn't want to mess it up. Because, besides costing her her life (which wasn't so bad as to warrant the death wish), it would mean Henry would never be safe again.

So she made an effort. Feeling fortified by the warm food (though still smarting from Regina's refusal to let her have wine because it would dull her magic senses) she made an effort to comply. She followed Regina through the corridors, making a pass though the hall of portraits and reciting to herself, the names she could remember. She'd never be a teacher's pet, but she would damn well make an effort.

"Tell me of a place you like, somewhere you feel comfortable and enjoy."

"The rug next to the fire place in my room."

"Figures." Regina huffed. "Lead the way, princess."

But much to Emma's dismay, there was no fire in her fireplace. Someone had been cleaning and scrubbing the place clean. The fireplace shone a cold, cold reality.

"Sit!" Regina pointed at the rug.  
"It's out."

"Do not pout. Princesses don't pout."

"Well, this one does."  
"Because you don't have a fire?"

"Yes."  
"Make one."

"No lighter."

"Use. Your. Magic!"

"I don't have any."

"You do. Concentrate."  
"You keep saying that…"

"You keep ignoring it."

"I'm having a feeling of déjà vu."

"Yes, we keeping beating the same dead horse, don't we? Close your eyes for a second."

"Closed." Emma closed her eyes and fidgeted.

"Think of the fire. Think how good it will feel when it is crackling up and warming your hands and your face and your feet."

Emma concentrated. She pictured the bright white to orange gradients of the flame, the way it licked at the logs, the warmth in her feet, her fingers, her nose. There was some crackling of wood and a scent of wood burning and Emma opened her eyes, scared to see that there was indeed the tiniest of flames grasping the logs in the fireplace. And then she saw Regina's face, looking at her intently, her expression inscrutable. And the flame sputtered and died.

"Oh man. It was so close I could almost feel it."  
"Try again. Concentrate, try again. Emma, if you don't believe in magic, you will never have it. Try again." Emma had a funny feeling this was not the magic she wanted. She gazed at Regina, at her lips, and thought that that was the kind of magic she could stand behind. _Well, that was a weird thought…_

Emma closed her eyes and concentrated on the flame again. The colours, the sounds, the scents, the warmth.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Henry had learnt to ride a bicycle much the same way: Regina had cheated. She made him believe he was doing it on his own all the while she was holding his bike upright.

She started the tiniest of flames and had it dancing around the logs, close to where Emma could actually hear the sap in the wood snapping and popping and feeling the heat radiating from the flame. When Emma opened her eyes, Regina simply looked at her and smiled. "You did it."

The moment she said it, the moment she saw Emma looking at her hands, she put out the flame just like she would let go of the bike when Henry looked at her hands.

"Try again."

And Emma did. She closed her eyes, and this time, Regina didn't have to intervene or pretend. Emma created a steady flame and it was crackling nicely and gaining volume.

"You did it." This time, the flame did not go out. This time, when Emma smiled, it was in triumph and gratitude and okay, Regina thought, maybe she wasn't as dim as she believed her to be. "You did it."

"You sound surprised."

"I am." She smiled.

"So am I."

"Just act like you do that every day in your sleep and half the battle is already won."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"The damn spoons and forks again."

"It's not much fun for me either, you know." Emma sighed because she was very sure that after the success of the fire making, she was well due for another failure. "But I was thinking and maybe, I went for too much too soon."

"Oh?" Emma immediately opened the door they come too- the door to the dining hall. Regina simply stood still making Emma return to her side. "Are you okay?"

"You are the Princess, dear. You do not open your own doors."

"You better be kidding."

"No. I'm dead serious."

"Regina, for god sakes, there is only us girls here. Who the hell is going to open the door for me?" And she marched ahead again and opened the door.

It was an impulse and Regina was not exceedingly proud of it, but she slapped Emma's hand, another demonstration of magic.

Emma snapped her hand in the air. "That hurts!"

"Good. Let's see if the carrot and stick work for you. You are the Princess and the Princess does not open doors. They are opened for her. Now repeat after me."

And Emma did. Which amused Regina and she could not hide a little smirk.

"So if I'm a Princess and you're… well, a girl too, who's going to open the door? Are we just going to sit out here until a man happens to walks on by?"

"Attractive as the idea might be, no. From now on, always behave like a Princess. If you don't, no one is going to believe you, so act like one until you won't need to remember to do it and it will come naturally to you."

"I hate to point out the obvious, but we still don't have anyone to open the door for us."

Regina moved to Emma's right hand side and offered her her arm with a bow." Pretend I am your Prince and that we are walking somewhere. Whenever there is a door, you will expect the Prince to open it for you. If there is a chair, you will expect the prince to pull it for you."  
"Will I expect him to chew my food too?" And that earned her another slap in the hand, this time of the physical, non magical, variety. "It's just it doesn't seem like we can get much done without a prince to do it for us."  
"Fred and Ginger, Princess." Regina pushed the door open and stood behind to let her through. When Emma continued to walk without waiting, Regina cleared her throat which stopped on her tracks.

"What now?"

"You wait for the prince to be done with the door duty and to take his arm again. Reward him for being a good little puppy."

"I can smell food."

"Good, there is nothing wrong with your nose then."

"I mean, I can get where I'm going on my own. I don't need a prince to walk me there. It's unlikely I'll get lost or stuck behind a door. I was born with opposable thumbs."

"That's not the point."

"Oh God! What's the point then?"

"The point is Fred and Ginger."

"I'm confused."

"It's okay, you must be used to it by now. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. They both danced, they booth looked good and everybody thought he was leading. But Ginger was the true talent: she did everything he did, but backwards. The point, Miss Swan, is that you make him walk at your pace and fall into step with you. Without his noticing. It may seem passive, but you are the one who controls the prince, even when you have to do everything backwards. _If_ you know how to set the pace."

"I'd rather have gone to astrophysics school."

"Look at her, she knows such a big word."

And then they fell into step together, Emma' s hand in Regina's arm.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The fact that Emma waited for her to pull her chair went a long way to placate the tutor in Regina. And there was indeed food to be had which went a long way to placate the brat in Emma in her least favourite lesson: the spoons and forks which come to include napkins, gravy boats and glasses and all manners of etiquette. She was tired of counting tines and standing ramrod straight and part of the problem was that, when put on the spot, she could not remember how many tines meant fish nor that she should refresh her palate with water before the wine. Maybe she should skip the meals altogether when in the company of _that_ part of the family.

But this time, Regina had a table set up for _high tea_. In Emma's mind, she could almost taste tea seasoned with a little weed and she found herself anticipating it. Of course, she was to be sourly disappointed. There was tea, yes, but of the dull variety and, okay, _that_ she liked, a variety of cream cakes. No doughnuts or bearclaws, but there were cream cakes.

"There is real food this time." Emma remarked. "That has to be an improvement."

"Carrot and stick, Miss Swan. Now, the thing to remember with tea is that you do not expect the prince to serve it."

"Praise the Lord, Halleluiah. If I had to wait for a prince to eat, under the right set of circumstances, I might be forced to stab him with a salad fork."  
"Nonsense. A knife would be quicker."

"A fork will make it hurt more. Tried and tested. Let's get down to business, shall we?" And she made a grab for the cream cakes. She was going fingers first and sense after and it only earned her one more magic slap from Regina.

"Serve the tea first. The prince first, you last."

Which was easier said than done, because the tea pot did not come with an instruction booklet and even if it did, she would not have read it. Tea spilled into the cups but also backwards burning her wrist. Which caused her to drop the whole thing.

Regina took her wrist in her hand and, carefully running cool fingers through Emma's scalded skin, applied a soothing magic to it that tingled through all of Emma's body. She also cleared the mess on the table and produced a new tea pot, complete with tea cosy. "Cool!" Emma managed to produce through the jittery aftershocks of the magic touch.

"Practical magic, Miss Swan." Regina cleared her throat, slightly unnerved. "Now, hold the pot and keep your arm steady. Pour it- don't dump it- into the cups."

It took, admittedly, more time than Emma was comfortable with until things stopped spilling, skidding or flying. It took a lot of patience from Regina, a lot of cream cakes cleaned up from the table cloth and the floor until the moment Regina was marginally satisfied and allowed Emma to actually eat one.

"Now, it is customary to small talk during tea."  
"I hate small talk."  
"You'll find that I do not disagree. But – and please do not slouch – you must be prepared to feed them whatever crap they want to hear."

"Like what?"

"You know, the obvious. Compliment the sword…"

"That sounds pervy."

"The dancing abilities…"

"What if he can't dance?"

"The breadth of the shoulders…"

"They'll think I'm interested."

"Well, aren't you? A marriage to a good prince would ensure your safety."

"No."

"No?"

"That's what I said."

"Well, it doesn't matter. As long as you can make them believe they stand a chance that's all you're expected to do."

"What if they get handsy?"  
"Why do you think I'm teaching you magic?"

"Can I make them impotent?"

"You can make them anything you want if you learn the right spell. But you might want to consider marriage. Marriages are different here in the Enchanted Forrest."

"It did not seem to work all that well for you."

"No, it didn't." Regina's expression closed off immediately.

"Sorry. I should not have brought it up."  
"No, you shouldn't. I keep reminding you of the filter but it does not seem to work."

"I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you?" It was the serene grief in Regina's eyes that prompted Emma to ask.

"Don't slouch!" Emma straightened as if she had been pocked by something on fire. "Tell me about Henry's dad."

"Geez, you go straight for the jugular."

"Always. What happened with him?"

"You know how princesses kiss frogs and they turn into princes?"  
"Can't say I do. Kisses never worked all that well for me either. But yes, I'm familiar with the concept."

"Well, I kissed a lot of princes. And every single one turned in to a frog. But this guy, he took the biscuit. He was Jabba The Hut."

"I'm sorry?"

"Star Wars, Regina."

"Big frog?"

"You could say that."

"What happened to him?"

"Among other things, a salad fork."

Regina put her dainty cup down and gave her smile that held a mix of cruelty and understanding in it. "So much for the subtlety, but can't fault the logic."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Okay, I'm ready. Teach me some magic."

"You know, the dismissive attitude does not endear you to anyone."  
"Like you were ever concerned with pleasing the crowds."

"Can't say that I was."

"Next you're going to tell me to smile more." Emma crossed her arms across her chest, the mutinous expression coming to her easily."

"Wouldn't hurt. You walk around looking like you're sucking lemons."

"Yeah? Well, you walk around like_"  
"Filter, Miss Swan." And in a flick of the wrist, Emma found that even though she was talking, no words were could actually be heard."

_Well, crap!_ 'Sorry', she mouthed. 'Filter. I promise.'

"You will be provoked, Miss Swan. They will say things that will hurt you and things that you will want to mop the floor with their tongues for. But you will need to grin and bear it. You mustn't let them know that it affects you. You must smile even when you want to murder them. They will destroy you if you don't."

"Personal experience?"  
"Yes. Now, for magic. Casting a spell is easy. Trusting you did it right, that's the hard part. And you must trust. Half the magic is the belief. Your _must_ believe it."

"So if I believe enough, I can magic some alcohol out of thin air?"

"What is it with you and alcohol?"

"Why can't you teach me how to magic alcohol? That would suitably impress me. Make me a believer…"

"Why, Miss Swan I do believe you are attempting to manipulate me. I'm so proud." And then Regina smiled. A bona fide, honest to goodness smile. "There are better things in life than alcohol."

Oh, yes, well, that Emma knew _that_ damn well. "Sure there are. But alcohol makes up for not having them. So, this spell… is it just the case of imagining the bottle?"

"Carrot and stick, Miss Swan. We do something simple without accident and then you can try your hand at the alcohol."

"Best news of the day. I could hug you right now." And toss herself out of the window right afterwards to die of mortification privately. That filter seemed to be on a delayed delivery from FedEx.

"Let's not get carried away, Miss Swan. I'm merely providing a service." And yet, she could use a hug. She pushed the thought away, a fly swatted. "Now, a simple magic."

"Shouldn't I have a wand or something?"

" Did Dumbo need his feather to fly?"

"Ah… don't know, but from the look on your face, that would be a _no_."  
"There you go. Wands are for children's books."

They were sitting on the rug in Emma's room. Regina discovered that the rug before the fire was Emma's happy place. That should go a long way to help her relax. She produced an apple from her pocket. "Concentrate on the apple. Only the apple."

"This feels like déjà vu."

"As does the interruption. The apple. Concentrate." She held her hand with the apple on her palm. "See only the apple. See it rising, floating, weightless."

The thing with the apple was that it was right between her and Regina's eyes. So no, she could not see the damn apple only, because in the background she could see in sharp definition, two nearly black eyes and the more she concentrated, the more she fell through them, the more she wanted to keep on falling, except the damned apple was in the way and the only solution was to remove it.

The apple flew from Regina's hand, seemingly of its own accord and shot through the air.

Unimpeded, Emma lost all thoughts of apples and levitation and could feel herself falling forward, falling into Regina and there was not a damned thing that was going to stop her, not a single one.

Except the apple that came flying out of thin air and hit Regina in the right temple, knocking the air and the lights out of the object of Emma's fixation.

"Oh, shit, oh god, I killed her." CPR. Maybe Regina needed CPR. She couldn't remember much about it except that it involved kissing. "Regina? Regina, can you hear me?"

"Nothing wrong with my ears, Miss Swan." Regina moaned and it was music to Emma's ears.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You know," Regina pushed herself up slowly. "You could have those words tattooed on your forehead."

"Clearly, the apple did not affect your sense of humor."

Regina rubbed at the bump forming on her temple. "Who says I'm joking? Foretold is forewarned."

The bump was turning a hazy shade of gray. Emma decided to let Regina get away with however many jabs she wanted. She was feeling guilty and not just because of the flying murderous apple.

"What on earth were you thinking about? You were supposed to just levitate it, not use it as a missile."  
"Well, as long as I have apples, I am not helpless."  
"Slightly different methods, but I have to agree."

Emma felt relief flood through her starting at her feet and working its way up: Regina was okay, but it was more than that, wasn't it, if they could joke about the past without flinching.

"Now, the apple. Again, please. This time without the flying, the shooting or the hitting."

It was not that simple. As far as she was concerned, she had done nothing to the apple, so she did not know how to make it float again. She stared it down, but the apple would not move and after 10 minutes of intense staring, Regina's arm was starting to cramp and her patience dwindling dangerously. She sighed long and obnoxiously.

"What are you sighing about? I'm the one who can't float the apple. Maybe you're not such a great teacher after all."

"Miss Swan." Pause for effect: it never failed to get Emma's attention. "This is not about the teacher. This is not a spell. This is about your own inherent magic. You just need to access it. Connect with it and let it flow out of you, influence objects and people. That is what having true power means. Not knowing a couple of mumbled spells."

"Don't you think I would have figured it out if I had any?"

"You are remarkably dim, sometimes."

"Hey"

"You have magic. That apple flew. You broke my curse. Trust me, you have magic."

"Must have left it in my other pants."

"Here. You have magic here." Regina placed her hand over Emma's heart. "In your heart."

Emma's traitorous heart beat madly in her chest. "Ah, 'kay."

Regina pulled her hand away as if she had been burnt. "Try again."

It took Emma the rest of afternoon, but she went to dinner flying an apple into the dining hall, dropping it almost smoothly between Snow and James.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"I think you'd look great in a dress." Henry tried to placate Emma.

"No kidding?"

"What? You totally would. Also, it is sort of… tradition, you know. Princesses wear dresses and dance with the prince…"

"What do you mean _dance_? There's not going to be any dancing."

"Emma, sweetie, it is a ball." Snow tried. She didn't like feeling that they were ganging up on Emma, but how could her sweet, sweet baby not understand what being a princess entailed? There were balls and tea parties and wearing a dress and dancing with a prince were the job description. It was that simple. "There will be music and dancing. A dress is the only appropriate choice."

"No!"

"Stop behaving like a spoiled brat, Miss Swan." Regina stood from her perch next to Henry where she had been observing the back and forth, barely holding a cackle of evil laughter. Forget about the curse, this alone could have been her happy ending, if only she had known, seeing the princess fight convention tooth and nail and her mommy trying, without success, to engender a suitable outcome. It was very pleasing. But, alas, the matter was pressing and Henry's safety should be preserved no matter who had to wear a dress. "You will wear a dress and you will dance because you know fully well what is at stake_" Her hand smoothed Henry's hair in tender demonstration, "_and this kind of behavior, entertaining though it is- _and it is-_ is futile, because we both know what's at stake. So," She walked to Snow and took the yards of pale pink silk in her arms. "I suggest you try on your dress, let the dressmaker make whatever alterations need to be made and get it over with.

"I hate you."

"Sure. Now, get a move on."  
"I'm not a brat." Emma quipped as they walked to Emma's chambers.

"Maybe. But you are acting like one. Do you crave mommy's attention that much?"

"What?"

"Well, you engage her in this kind of pointless argument, one has to wonder…"

"I don't have mommy issues."

"Of course not, dear." Regina indulged Emma as she closed the door behind the dress maker. "Now strip."  
"Huh?"

"I beg your pardon."  
"What for?"  
Regina realised at that moment she was developing a penchant for sighs of the long suffering variety. She would have to work on that. But on this one occasion it was too late. "Don't use that god awful sound _huh_." She mimicked. "Use your words. You're a big girl. Say 'I beg your pardon'."

"Yeah."  
"Yes."

This time, Emma did not fight back. She was trying too hard not to be bothered by the fact that she was expected to strip in front of the dress maker _and_ Regina.

The yards of fabric turned out to be a _baby pink_ dress shaped a lot like a meringue. There wasn't, to her mind, a single redeeming quality for that aberration. It made her look pasty and a lot like a caricature of a princess.

"I'm screwed." She pulled at her hair. "I must have been really bad in my last incarnation. I had to be really bad to deserve this."

Regina took in the dress. Yep, Emma was right for once. She was screwed. The dress was a cross between a bridal gown and cotton candy from the fun fair, no shape on the torso, no cleavage and, yes, yards and yards of meringue that seemed to have no other function but to annoy. Disney would have loved it.

But she had gotten Emma into the dress and that was the only thing about it that was part of her job description.

The dress maker took in the hem and fluffed about with the sleeves, puffing them even further into a grotesque balloon and then bobbed a curtsy to Emma. "If you'd care to take it off now, Your Highness, I will get on with it."

"I look like a… a…"

"Princess?"

"A hybrid between a drag queen and a marshmallow."

There was nothing Regina could do, she told herself. Absolutely nothing.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina plopped a pitcher of water on the floor in front of Emma's crossed legs.

"How can you stand to be so close to the fire?"  
"I don't like being cold."

"I come bearing gifts."

"Water? It's too little for me to drown in. I might try the lake."

"It's frozen solid at this time of year. Oh, just forget about the stupid dress, will you?"

"I know, I know, I'm being a brat, but Regina, did you see it?"

"Indeed. Now, remember you asked me about the alcohol?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, then, I thought you might like to try it." That cheered Emma right up.

"Yes, please."

"Okay. This is a spell and it is actually quite simple. Just say it with me: _Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, __turn this water into rum_."

Emma repeated dutifully. Rum was no whisky but was better than water, so she decided to go along with it. If she got this right, she would ask for something like good ol' Jack. "_Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, __turn this water into rum_." She repeated until she was lost in the rhythm of the words, so concentrated she could almost taste the rum.

But she was getting thirsty and she liquid in the pitcher was still clear as water and she realized she was saying the words on her own and that Regina was simply watching her intently and biting down on an malevolent smirk.

"What?" Regina asked, clearly struggling to hold the laughter in. "Have you never read Harry Potter?" When Emma realized she was the punch line, Regina simply lost her hold on the laughter and let it rip, laughing until she had tears in her eyes.

The funny thing was, Emma could not bring herself to be upset. Just as long as Regina kept of laughing like that.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Okay, okay. Jack, Jim or Johnny?"

"All my favorite boys. Any, please."

"Look at pitcher and see the colour. Picture it the colour of whisky. See it in your mind." Emma closed her eyes. "No, Miss Swan. With your eyes open." Emma obeyed. The water swirled and for moment it went tangently close to muddy gray. But Emma thought fondly of her three boys and the water in the pitcher turned amber, clear and intense. "Now the smell." Feel the smell. Concentrate on the smell."

Drinking was always a necessity. There had been times it had been a pleasure, an exercise in hedonism. She remembered one such time and the scent of good old whisky filled her nostrils, not just the picturing but because it was clearly there.

"And now for the alcohol part: remember how it feels like, that buzz in your head and in your blood. How it affects your body."  
Emma did not need to remember. She was desperate for it, for a few moments where there was nothing more but her and a bottle.

She could not be sure it happened, but she thought she saw a purple spark in the liquid in the pitcher, something so quick and bright she could have imagined it. There was a smell in the air, not far from what she identified as baby smell, soft and pure.

Regina inhaled the air and smiled a private smile that Emma could only define as non-threatening.

"Cheers" Regina saluted, handing her a snifter and filling it in with the contents of the pitcher. "Not bad, Miss Swan."  
"Not bad? What do you mean not bad?"

"Well, it would have been perfect if this had been whisky."

Emma sniffed the glass. "Rum."

"What on earth were you thinking about?"


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"These are far too many plates for one dinner. Too many spoons and forks. The knives at least I can understand. I'm sure it will come a point where they will all come in handy."

"Meal."

"What?"

"Call it a meal. It will justify the number of spoons." Regina rubbed at the insipient headache. Emma hated these lessons and so did she. It was like rolling a boulder uphill only to have flatten you when you thought you're reaching the summit.

Perhaps Regina was as close to stabbing her with a desert fork and she was herself. There was nervous laughter that started bubbling at the back of her throat. The more Regina rubbed at her head, the more Emma wanted to let it out. She snorted, chocking on it, but managed to hold it. Which, if she had the courage to tell Regina, should make her proud on account of the all important _filter_.

"Isn't there an easy way? Like soup and desert and that's it? Keep it simple, frugal?"

"No."

"Well, that was straight forward…"

"Emma, there is an etiquette here. It leaves no space for the fly to the seat of your pants approach… We have one day. One day left."

"Are you worried?"

"Yes."

"Will Snow send you back to where you were if I fail?"

Would Snow send her back? It was a possibility. But there were more important things at stake. "This is important. Emma. Vital. _We_ will not fail."

"Where were you all that time, Regina?"  
Regina found that she wished she could share, not the least because there was a need in her that she could not quite comprehend for a friendly hand, a well done for pushing through. Something that made it not look like she had lost a mind temporarily and imagined it all. She needed someone to know so that she could have indeed overcome it. Definition by opposition… And yet, she literally couldn't.

"I can't." And her throat constricted in warning. "Quite literally."

The more she spoke, the sadder Emma got, all traces of maniacal laughter gone.

"Look, if you get it wrong, just be arrogant about it. Act like you know perfectly well what you're doing and just don't care. You're a princess. You should have that prerogative. They might think you are original and witty." And just like that, there was hope.

"Is that the way to get away with it?" Emma sounded doubtful and hopeful all in the same smile, the same one Regina saw so long ago at her door step when she first met Emma in Storybrooke.

"Let's try again."

And they did. They worked until Emma had her fingers numb and her eyes rimmed in red. Regina was still not quite sure Emma would get the whole be served concept, what side the server had to be serving her and not her neighbor, the goblets and napkins. She would, most likely, get one or two wrong or knock someone's tray down in her eagerness to help. But progress was progress. She held a cup from the array on the table and twirled her finger around in it. The scent of hot chocolate rose like a cloud in the air.

She placed in front of Emma, complete with whipped cream and pink marshmallows.

"Regina?"

"Yes, Miss Swan?"  
"I won't let Snow send you back. If we fail. Which we won't."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Henry liked these moments (even if there was no chocolate for him). They filled him with hope. His mom was going to save is other mom and she, in turn, would not let mom be sent back to wherever she had been. Maybe there was a happy ever after for him in all of this too.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The ballroom was as grand and as cold as Regina remembered it, cold granite walls and three fireplaces the size of small family homes that were more effective in letting the cold in that in keeping the place warm. Not a great loss when you're a man wrapped in a fur cloak, but deadly when you're a woman trying to survive a mousseline dress.

"It's cold in here." Emma shivered even though they were both wrapped in warm woolen cloaks.

"Indeed. So sort it."

"How?"

"Need is the mother of invention, Miss Swan."

"Fire? Should I start a fire?"

"Tempting… try restricting it to the fireplace."

"Sure, but there's not fire wood in there."

"Improvise." Emma concentrated on the gray stone fireplace. This was the heart of fairytale land, so if ever there was going to be fire without combustive material, this would be it. She pictured the fire roaring in the empty space and the heat radiating from it. In her mind, it looked like one of those electric fireplaces. It was not traditional but it was pretty. In reality, though, there was a sputter of fire and a small flame shot through the air and instead of settling like a good little flame in the fireplace, it made a few fly bys at great speed. Regina ducked and deftly avoided it. One flick of her wrist and the flame settled obediently in the fireplace and grew to fill the space with warmth.

"Sorry."  
"Yes, it seems you have a problem with direction and speed." Emma had the decency to look sheepish. "Try again." And she pointed at the second fireplace. They walked with steps that reverberated through the hall the size of a football pitch.

"Stand behind me. I don't want to hurt you, Regina."

"That's good," said Regina. "I don't want you to hurt me either. Now do it."

As Emma closed her eyes, Regina moved behind her. "Open your eyes, Emma. Watch where you're sending that flame."

The flame did sputter a little and it went a little wild. "Picture it on the fireplace. Firmly there. It will do what you want it to do." And it did. It really did.

"Fuck me, I did it."

"Potty mouth."

"But I did it."

"Yes, you did." And for some reason, Regina was still standing behind her and her voice was just like silk running through the skin of Emma's neck. "Light the other one."

As Emma did as she was told, music filled the air.

"Nice, but what about something more contemporary?" Regina ignored her and lit the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the torches on the walls. It did not look nearly as bad as when they'd walked in and it felt warmer than it had back when she had stuck to the walls waiting to be noticed, never sure she could be ignored completely.

"Can we magic some heaters in here? It still feels very cold."

"You'll warm up when you dance." It wasn't quite true. Regina had never managed to warm up during the balls. There had been this bone deep cold, but Emma didn't need to know that.

"I don't dance."

"The same way you didn't do magic. You'll learn."

"This is going to be like that fancy dancing with waltzes and whatnot, right?"  
"Largely, yes."

"Yeah… I mean, Yes, I don't dance. Not like this, I don't. I mean… I dance in night clubs. I'm a good dancer there."

"Show me."

Emma reluctantly showed her. In her beloved jeans, she was all fluid lines and undulating curves and smooth swerves of the hips, a liquidity of movement and Regina was fascinated by those lines, and though they could have been ridiculous in the grey winter daylight coming in through the windows and without any music, this was Emma and it gave her a jolt where nothing was supposed to be happening because Regina knew better than letting it happen.

"That's … pretty, dear."

"It's stupid."

"No… no. It's fascinating. I'm sure it is quite wonderful and would be an instant hit if had that music here."

"What do I do?" Emma felt her shoulders slumping under the weight of yet one more failure in her_ princesshood_.

"A good start is not to slouch. Walk like everyone is beneath you. If you're slouching, you'll be looking up to everybody."

"Unless they're a dwarf."

"Unless that. I'll teach you. That's what we'll do." Regina took a step forward and held out her hand. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Emma had no doubt she would walk out of this ballroom dancing. She had learnt the ridiculous forks, spoons and knives (well, sort of), she could produce a decent fire and bob an apple through the never ending corridors of the palace. She would learn this as well.

She took Regina's outstretched hand. "Now what?"

"Now we count steps." Regina placed her hand on Emma's waist. "I'm Fred, You're Ginger."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I move two steps forward, you move two steps back. Then we pause. Two more steps forward for me, two more back for you. Pause. Then," She raised their joint hands above their hands and gave Emma's waist a little turning push. "We twirl."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma could feel herself tense up. Her feet seemed to have grown a mile and she was having trouble keeping them off Regina's toes. Her back and shoulders were stiff and beginning to hurt. She might learn to dance, but she was always going to stand out like a sore thumb and look ridiculous.

"Dance like no one is watching, Emma."

"That's why night clubs are good."

"Oh?"

"Really, no one is watching."

It was becoming increasingly hard to count steps. Her left hand and the right side of her waist were fast becoming the only two things Emma could concentrate on.

Hand in hand, curve against curve. Bodies almost but not quite touching.

"Stop leading, Emma."

"I'm not."

"You are. You're the Princess. You need to let the prince lead you."

"And you'd be my prince?"

"Well, I'll be your prince for tonight then."

"It would be more believable if you didn't have to stand on your tiptoes to twirl me."

"Always a complaint… When the music stops, you will curtsy and I will bow."

"Okay…" On cue, the music stopped and Emma curtsied. It was a clumsy bow of the head with her foot slightly to the side.

"That is not curtsy."

"Is it a bow, then?"

"Uh… no." And Regina demonstrated, knees bending slightly, chin to chest, dress pulled sideways. "A curtsy." Your turn, she indicated with her hand.

Emma tried again.

"Keep your knees together, dear."

"I'll lose my balance."

"Then practise. Practise it until you get it right."

"The meringue will disguise it."

"I will still know you're doing it wrong."

"Do you have x-ray vision?"

"When I want to."

"Cool. Teach me that one."

"First, learn the curtsy." She offered her hand to Emma when the music restarted and they went through the two step routine again and when the music stopped, Regina bowed. Emma did too. They bumped heads violently.

"Ladies curtsy, gentlemen bow, Emma."

"I'm tired."

"Chocolate?"

"Deal."

Again and again Regina bowed and Emma curtsied. Again and again, Regina held her hand for Emma to take and when Emma did, Regina would slide her hand onto Emma's waist and they would haltingly move about the dance floor.  
"Softly on your feet, Emma. I'd quite like to have some of mine left by the time we go to bed."

Emma lowered her head onto to Regina's shoulder, defeated.

"Softly on my feet, she says… _Turn around Piglet. Step lightly Pooh. This silly old dance is perfect for two_."

"Winnie-the-Pooh?"

Emma shrugged. "I had a foster mom that was nice to me."

Something in Regina's chest squeezed painfully and she pulled Emma closer to her, just a fraction, her arm closing a little more around Emma's waist.

And they practised through the day until it was night and then until the moon disappeared. Until Emma curtsied with more or less grace and Regina's feet were woefully trodden upon.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow had a way to get on his nerves, sometimes. The imminent arrival of the family, all the preparations and something he knew in his heart was akin to jealousy made it worse. She was jealous of the time Emma spent with Regina. Given that Snow had had to work hard at making it happen and swallow her pride and stamp on her fears, it was a little strange. Even if he could understand. He saw what he saw. And he knew what Snow was jealous of even if she didn't.

So James offered to go find Henry who was now running later for dinner and nowhere to be found. Given that it had been him who taught his grandson about the secret passageways he had a good guess where the boy might be. He found him exactly where he'd expected: the small secret corridor with a view of the ballroom.

Henry was on his tiptoes to reach the viewing slot hidden between the arabesques of a wall candelabra.

"Henry" James whispered. "You're going to miss dinner."

"Okay…"  
"What are they doing?"

"Mom's teaching Emma to dance."

"Let me see."

How strange the compression in his heart. Regina had her hands on his daughter's hand and waist and was swaying her gently to the sound of a waltz, their two-step not entirely fluid, not entirely smooth. And then they exchanged some words and Emma's head lowered to Regina's shoulder. There were words, but though he could see, he could not quite hear. But he saw what he saw: Regina's arm closing tighter around Emma, her expression tense and sad and then the way her eyes closed and her expression relaxed. He was quite sure that Regina had no idea how she looked like at that moment: as someone who's been given a gift.

"Are they doing okay, Grandpa?" Henry asked, still on his toes, looking out of a similar hole on the stone wall.

James looked at his grandson. He was no expert and knew little about nature and nurture, but he was clear on something: Henry was the child he was because of Regina.

"They're doing just fine, Henry."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The palace was alight with nervous energy early in the morning. It didn't matter that they were several floors above because sound, it turned out, rose up, through and around the walls and no matter how much she needed to sleep, it was just not going to happen. Frustrated, Emma hid her head under the pillows and muffled an outraged scream.

"Rise and shine, sweetie." Snow chirped as she walked into the room. "It's a lovely day for a ball."

"I'm not here."

"Sweetie… there is a lot to be done. And the… huh... _family_ will be here shortly. You need to be up and in possession of your wits to greet them."

"Why do you hate me?"

"Oh, sweet, sweet baby. Mommy does not hate you…"

"Stop molly-coddling her, Snow. Princess, get your but out of bed." And promptly, both the covers and the pillows flew out revealing a nearly naked Emma in bed.

"Hey!"

"Move."

"In a minute." And the covers flew back as did the pillow to where they had been before Regina had magically moved them.

"Well, that's a nice little development." Regina laughed delightedly.

"You didn't do that?"

"No!"

Snow turned to face her stepmother if only to verify with her own two eyes that there was pride in the woman's face. It was confusing and she found she was a little bit jealous. Though of what, she couldn't be sure.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"You should get up and check them out. Sort of like a reconnaissance mission." Regina offered mildly.

"Study the mark, their habits?"

"There you go. Pretend this is a bail bonds thing and you should be okay. God knows they all belong behind bars anyway."

"What if I don't feel ready?"

"Well, then let you mother do the talking. Do not introduce Henry now. Be seen but not heard. Smile a lot. Come back as soon as your mother dismisses them."

"I'm nervous."

"Here." Regina brought a tray with breakfast she had left on the dresser. "This should make you feel better."

"Thanks… Thank you." Emma cleared her throat. "How are your feet?"

"Sore."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll live."

"Why are you being nice to me?"

She wasn't, was she? That took her by surprise.

"Must be a byproduct of being hit in the head with that apple. Get dressed, Miss Swan. Use a dress. Jeans is not acceptable attire today."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma nearly ran back to her room when Snow dismissed her from the throne room. Why should she be so nervous? They were simply visiting, that was all. They were as killable as anyone else. Flesh and blood. Remarkably creepy flesh and blood. The hands that touched her felt as cold as dead fish and the lips that kissed her hands were extremely cold and the thought she would have to dance with them made her sick to her stomach.

The dress maker followed her from the corner of the corridor where she seemed to have been keeping watch for the princess. The ridiculous blue dress she was wearing was just making her trip and it was a miracle that she had not made a fool of herself in front of the evil incarnations of Chip and Dale. And now here the woman was, certainly ready to help encage her in that pink instrument of torture.

She sped up as much as she could without making it look like she was running. Apparently, princesses don't run. She hid in her room, door locked. She was past caring whether princesses hid in their rooms or not.

The poor woman had to resign herself to knocking on the door. "Your highness, it's time to get ready." Came the plaintive voice.

Maybe if she ignored it, the woman would go away. Maybe, if she clicked her heels three times and said _there's no place like home_ she'd be back in Storybrook where there were no dresses and no palaces and there was running water in the taps. Just for the sake of it, she tried just that, glad no one was looking.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

So the princess was feeling the nerves. So was she. Regina approached the dress maker with one of her trademark evil looks and took the dress for her gnarly hands. "I'll take care of it."

The woman walked away with some trepidation. Everyone at the palace knew Regina for who she was- the former evil queen. It made her a special sort of pariah- not part of the royal family, not part of the servants. No one wanted to so much as to be in the same room.

"Emma, open the door."

The door opened and behind it stood Emma.

"Glad to see you're not in your underwear."

"Funny."

"Now, put on the meringue and let's get this over and done with."

"Well, since you put it that way."

"I do. Put the dress on."

"Look, can't I just wear something like back home: a little black dress… I'll even go for pearls, but not this pink aberration. Please.

"Emma… It's a princess dress. You're a princess. It's in the job description. Look it up.

"No." Emma breathed her words.

"You looked okay with the dress."

"Okay?"

She was going to regret this because no good deed ever goes unpunished. Snow being living proof of that. "With the right dress, stunning."

"If I need to stun anyone, I'll clonk them on the upside of the head."

"I'm sure, dear. A dress is easier, though. Less muscles involved."

"This dress is demeaning."

"You're moaning again. Besides, it is not demeaning if you wear it like you own it. Put this on."

"This is so not the right dress." She looked herself in the mirror when she had the dress on. No, it was still as bad as she remembered. "I'm paying for my sins."

"Oh?"

"I used to pretend I was a princess when I was little."

Regina stepped back a few paces. God, this dress was cruel and unusual punishment. "Let's try this."

A flick of the wrist and the sleeves were _depuffed_. One more and the puffed out meringue of the skirt became a slick drop of material that flowed down Emma's body, accenting curves and revealing them. One more flourish and Emma had a cleavage she could actually distract half a kingdom with. But the dress was still pink and pink actually gave her the hives and before she could stop herself, there was a red bold strip that ran the length of the dress, shoulder to hem, diagonally.

"It looks a little like a Miss Universe sash."

"Too much?"  
"Hell no!"

"Snow will have me killed."  
"I'll save you." Emma said casually, distracted by the dress and her reflection in the mirror. For once she liked what the mirror was telling her and it boosted her confidence. "No need for pearls, huh?"

"No." Regina smiled, her throat tight. "Now, get going."

"I need shoes still. And these things will kill me." She decided having given one good look at the slippers that matched the dress down to the red strip that Regina had laid across them. She looked fondly at her worn out, comfortable boots.

"Knock yourself out. Just keep your feet under your dress. When your mother sees the dress I doubt the boots will make much of an impression."

"Regina… what if…"

"Emma, you'll be fine. Just smile and nod. Be arrogant. They'll think it's a family trait. Work your way in with the forks and the knives… And remember that men bow and ladies curtsy. In doubt, don't say anything, just nod like you agree, everybody wants to sucked up to."

"Why can't I just be myself? Am I that bad?"

It was like being punched in the gut. It knocked the air out of her lungs.

"Emma, listen to me: There is absolutely nothing wrong with what you are." As a game plan this one was ridiculous and it would probably end up with her back in that cell. "You're just playing the game by their rules." Regina spoke with her hands on Emma's face. It did make her feel like she had just gotten something back, though. Some important fraction of herself lost so long ago.

Emma was not sure why, but the next words came out anyway: "Come with me. Don't make me go in there alone." And Regina could have objected that Emma would not be alone, that she would have her parents there, but the instinct was too strong and she knew better than most that the people that should love you the most are the ones that put you in the kind of predicaments that cost you the better part of your soul.

"Okay." And in a plume of purple smoke, Regina became an old woman, dressed in black, a few inches shorter, white hair and a hairy moll on her chin.

"Wow!"

"Do I pass?" God, even the voice was different. Emma had to touch her shoulder now a few inches below and the white hair tied in a conservative bun.

"You don't really need the hairy moll. You're scary enough as it is."

"Good." And the moll was gone.

"What do we tell them?"

"The band of bastards? Just that I'm your lady in waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Seriously?"

"Joking. Lighten up, will you?"  
"Oh, now we're okay to lighten up."

"Yep" and she tackled hug Regina. "Let's get this show on the road."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was the weirdest thing: the room was shiny and glittery, there was music and everyone at that table was wearing their finery. And yet it all reeked of hate and unhappiness. It crept up on you like a mould that you just could not scrape off.

The dress caused an impression, a froufrou of voices and eyes turning in her direction. Of course, it could just be that _princess in the house_ vibe, but Emma was dead sure it was the dress: it stood out, claimed attention all on its own. Snow walked to her, hands reaching out and a smile on her face. This was Snow's face of _shit about to hit the fan_. Oh man!

"_What_ is this dress?"

"Oh, just a little something I had lying around…"

"Tell Regina I'll kill her for this."

"Relax, Snow. Let's try to make this a fun sport."

James glided next to Snow.

"Let's go ladies, let's get this show on the road. You look stunning, baby girl."

"Baby girl?" Emma would forever be uncomfortable with affection. Specially the one directed at her.

James took Snow's arm in his and soothed her hand. He whispered something to her that Emma did not quite hear (and most things they whispered, anyway, she'd rather not, thanks but no thanks.)

Regina walked slightly behind her and Emma turned around. "Come on."

"Walk ahead, Princess. This is how it goes."

Maybe, but it felt a little lonely and the tendency was to look back for comfort. Which was why her feet got tangled up in her dress and she almost planted it face first on the marble floor- if it had not been for Regina stopping it with a little magic. "Thanks…"

"Thank you. Please remember."

"Yeah, yeah, _Don't walk, glide_."

"Concentrate."

"Gliding, gliding… Look at me gliding."

If only she could have seen the smile Regina could not stop.

Emma took a deep breath. Sure. Concentration, _Glideness_, Politeness, Elegance. Okay. She could do this. Chip and Dale were doing some gliding of their own. It seemed they were all over her. Each took an arm and sectioned her off from Regina.

"Cousin Emma, you look positively… ravishing."

Emma did concentrate. She said thank you instead of thanks and smiled instead of maiming the unbelievable grinning jackasses.

"May I have the very great pleasure of escorting you to the libations table?"  
_It is_ possible to throw up in your mouth. But Snow was studying her from across the room where the family and the council were swapping pleasantries and blows and she decided to pull her own weight on this one thing. She draped her arm around Alvin's and inclined her head. She'd seen Regina do it, so it seemed appropriate.

"It would be my _very great _pleasure."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She decided that she was capable of doing everything just right. It was a surge of confidence she had no idea where it was coming from but it was welcome. She let Alfred pull her chair instead of doing it herself and she ignored the server instead of just greeting him with the usual familiarity when he poured her wine. Which she had no intention of having despite her earlier prediction about getting at least tipsy to be able to endure the night. Regina was right: she could not dull her senses around snakes.

The servants appeared, an army in pristine white and shiny black laden with foods that no one seemed to have appetite for. Emma concentrated on the tines, single mindedly not letting the nerves highjack her performance. She kept her posture straight as a sword- mostly because Regina – in her lady in waiting incarnation- stood against a wall right behind her (and it had to be said that Emma felt just that much safer knowing she was there)- and nodded politely to mostly everything that was said around her. She smiled and greeted the guests, she _how-do-you-do_ 'ed every single one of the them. True enough, Alfred and Alvin- her _dear cousins _- as the terms loosely applied to some sort of distant relation that even Snow could not very well point the origin of- stood on each side of her, seemingly taking turns at either trying to court her or degrading her upbringing and, she would swear, it was difficult to tell through all the bull crap, that of her mother and father. For once, Emma did not want to stay through to desert. She would have patted herself on the back for not losing her cool with all the cutlery, goblets and fine bone china and, even more importantly, not using any of those to stab the cousins in the ass. Or setting them on fire, which she now was well capable of, thank you very much.

Snow gave her some nervous glances, but James seemed to not be able to give a damn about the whole manners and forks situation and merrily spoke with his mouth full and laid his elbows on table. Emma had a sneaking suspicion he was laying the ground work for a good cover if she messed up. She loved him a little more for it.

Emma was fidgeting. She knew it and couldn't stop it. She wanted out of the dinner table, away from her cousins' wandering hands, all too eager to touch her hands and her arms and then her shoulders. She felt their slime dripping from her skin every time they touched her. But she merely smiled.

It was with some relief that she heard the master of ceremonies calling out for the party to reconvene in the ballroom. On cue, the music began. As Snow stood, all the guests stood to follow her and Emma was already halfway out of her chair when she remembered that someone would pull it for her. Both cousins stood behind her to do so and she half expected to have them knocking her on her ass with some prank. Where she'd grown up you don't turn your back on bullies, but needs must and here, though it might be just as true, you just did not do it.

She took one of their arms and walked to the ballroom, closely followed by Regina.  
"Does you lady in waiting follow you everywhere?" Alvin asked, all oily smiles and big horse teeth.

"She does, yes."

"Isn't that a little like…" Alfred spoke close to her ear and a shiver ran down her spine, "like locking the barn door after the prized mare has been stolen?"

_Well, the motherfucker! _She smiled her best smile at him, dimples and all. "That would make sense if there were no other assets in there."

"Oh…" Alfred smiled what had to be his best shot at a charming smile. He ran his index down her arm in a ham-fisted approach to seduction. "And what other treasures might be lurking, dearest cousin?"

Emma regretted bitterly not having invested five damned minutes in learning the magic slap Regina had down to an art form, but she had go at it anyway. She was picturing it in her mind when it happened. Damn, she was too damned good for her own damned safety.

Alfred looked miffed while Alvin smiled in glee, sensing perhaps he might now have a better chance at the _prized mare_. It made Emma want to knee them in the … family assets. Instead, she smiled her own version of a pretty princess smile- all the way up to her ears- and whispered softly "You will excuse me, please, Jacques."

"It's Alfred, Your Highness. Of course. I'm sure you need to speak to other guests."

"We wouldn't want to monopolise your attentions…"  
Emma gave them a brilliant smile that made her cheeks hurt. "I'm sure." And then, lowering her voice dangerously, tacked on in the softest of whispers: "I'm just bored with you, that's all."

And she walked away, a spring in her step. That felt good. Snow caught up with her, worry in her eyes. Together they walked to the wall Regina was standing against, the only sign of nervousness the clenched fist with the knuckles turning white.

"Did you just blow them off?"

"I sure did."

"Emma, where are you manners?" Snow sounded mortified.

"Fuck if I know, but they're having far more fun than I am." And she kissed her mother in the cheek which, Emma had come to realise, was the simplest way to placate the woman and sent her on her way back to James.

"Please behave." Snow beseeched her, more than a hint of whining in her voice.

"Sure. Behaving. Don't worry about a thing." And when Snow reluctantly walked way to play gracious host with Edwina and Rowena, Emma spoke to Regina without really turning to face her. "Thanks, by the way. He deserved that."

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do."

"Okay, I do. What was that all about?"

"They're ass_"

"Shush. Whatever they may be, they're the type you prepared for."

"Relax. Did anyone else hear it?"

"No."  
"So why are you worried?"

"Contractual obligation."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Huh… I get a feeling I'm a Bratz doll in a sea of Barbies" Emma studied the ballroom, replete of other meringue dresses, miles and miles of mousseline, mostly in white, pink and baby blue. It was like waking up inside a marshmallow packet, unable to find the open top.

"Princess, may I have this dance?" Well, if it wasn't tall, dark and handsome behind door number three. She was bored already.

"Look_" A magic slap in her hand reminded her of the purpose of the night. "I'd be delighted." She even managed a curtsy. _Teacher's pet!_ Roderick took Emma by the hand, and looking a lot like a puffed out rooster, walked into the dancing throng of marshmallows. He bowed, she curtsied and she could have been an illustration for a _how to marry you daughter_ magazine.

After that? Well, mildly put, it was battle that Emma lost because she had to keep up appearances and still count her dancing steps. His hand seemed to be all over the place, up and down her torso, more down in fact, where it disappeared between the red streaked folds of the dress, making a grab for her ass. Emma wiggled and tried her best to gain some distance between their two bodies, but he seemed to be practised in the art of not leaving anyone breathing space. Any other time and place, she would simply raise her knee and hit him in the crown jewels. But in the middle of her parents' freaking _ballroom_ with her head a dance away from coming off her shoulders, she hesitated. It made her teeth hitch, but she held back, gnashing her teeth.

"Are you quite alright, Princess?"

"Yeah, sure! I mean… Wonderful, thank you!" This place was going to give her an ulcer, no doubt about it. He took it as sign to eliminate some more air between them.

"Is this how they dance in that land you come from?"

"Hardly."

"How different is it?"

"Very?"

"Would you show me? Perhaps a more private setting?"

"It's not really the type of music for tonight." See? She could do it. She could grin and bear it.

"Oh? Do you dance closer? Like this?" And that was the last of the space between her chest and his. _Hold it together, Emma. This is not the only moron that ever groped you. _She tried to take a deep breath but there just wasn't space._ Slimy sack of sh__

Before she complete the thought, she had been waltzed into the balcony with a remarkably smooth maneuver. "Shall we take some air?" And it was dark and secluded and then all bets were off.

"I wager this is how you court in that land you come from, cousin, is it not?" And his mouth was on hers. He needed some kissing lessons, attitude revision and setting straight. There was only one of those she was not willing to give him. He must have sensed her intention, because he grabbed her hands behind her back. Either that or he had more practise at forcing himself on others than she had initially imagined. "I wager that our _dauphin _is a product of such dancing rituals, is he not, cousin?"

There was no point denying: her legs were a little wobbly, a little jellified and all in the worst way possible, like when you have too much coffee and your nerves just get away from you. She was lost for words. And that _never_ happened to her. She always had words. Even if just a choice of swear words.

"Perhaps," Roderick continued, his nose now buried in Emma's neck, "you regret now your wayward ways. The crone in waiting certainly seems like a good step in the right direction."

Emma ground her teeth and pushed at the solid wall of Roderick's body. Bingo, the filter was working. She was not yet swearing and had not yet introduced his groin to her knee. Well done, Regina. It was just that, somehow, it felt like totally a bad timing issue. "Come now, dear, I am not one to concern myself with your whorish past. A marriage between us is a more than adequate solution to make good on your reputation." Emma found herself literally between a rock and the hard place as Roderick now had her pressed between him and the stone balcony. "I'm just asking for a little incentive."

There was the _fall back plan_: kick your away out of sticky situations. Shame, because she had behaved so well until now… With not nearly enough space for the maneuver, she raised her knee and aimed high. Startled by the reaction and though Emma did not quite hit him where it mattered, he pulled backwards. Free, there was no stopping her. Emma raised her knee again and this time, she did not miss. She connected with his groin and stopped when he slid off her knee onto the floor with a very, very satisfying groan and then applied the good elbow to the back of the neck. Who needed magic when you had two working knees and a prime elbow?

"Don't you even talk about my kid. Don't you even learn his name, you hear me? And don't call her _crone_."

Behind her, the balcony doors opened and closed without a touch. Regina in her black dress was just a shadow in the night. "Is this where I have to help you hide the body?"

"What? Can't you just bring him back to life?"

"Death is death, Miss Swan. There is no magic powerful enough to beat it."

"No shit!"  
"Stop swearing!"

"I'm nervous, okay? Is this their idea of charming a girl?" Regina was appeased by the groan from the slumped man. "What? It was just a knee where it counts. I'm not that radical."

"Thank god for small mercies."

"It's a reflex, all right? I hear a bell, I get food. I get pinched in the ass, groped in the dark and called a whore and I punch the sack of shit. You can't blame me for that."

No, she couldn't. It was hard to fault the sentiment let alone the logic. Maybe that's what being a free spirit was all about.

"Mommy dearest will not be happy though. Did he say anything about Henry?"

Oh, there was danger in that question, Emma could see it in the bulging vein in Regina's forehead and the fists clenched at her sides.

"No, take it easy, Rocky. It was more about how I must have conceived him."

"Ah. Therein the huh…" She pointed at the man on the floor still groaning.

"Yep."

"Get him up, Miss Swan."

"Why me?"  
"Because you dropped him. And I'm an old woman and can't hold his weight. It's bad for my back,"

"Yeah… he's a bit hefty. Can we levitate him or something?"

"If you can do the spell, he's all yours…"

"Carrot and stick, yes?"

"Indeed. How's that working out for you?"  
"Let's see, shall we?" Closing her eyes, Emma attempted the levitation. This guy was no apple.

"Open your eyes. Don't let your guard down."  
"Seriously?"

"Are you going to keep on asking that?"

Hands in her hips, simmering with frustration and a little rage, Emma tried again, visualising him rising in the air like a puppet. It was no less hard work than lifting him bodily, but she did it.

"Hey, _Bertha_, look at this."  
"Bertha?" Emma shrugged at the offended tone. "Should I applaud?"  
"That would be a nice token of appreciation… What do I do with him now?"

"Hold him there while I do my part." Regina did something with her hand, a little flick and Roderick lifted his head, eyes wide open but unseeing.

"Why do you want me to keep my eyes open?"

"So that you know how you're doing it. Now hush."  
Emma quieted and waited patiently. Or her version of patiently at least. Roderick's body straightened like a piece of paper being uncrumpled.

"Put him down now." _Bertha_ said, cleaning her hands on her skirt. It was eerie for Emma, that gap between Regina's tone and _Bertha's_ old woman voice.

"Is it still magic if you know how it's done?" As usual, when unsettled, Emma spoke the first thing that came to her mind.

"Of course. Just makes you a better witch."

"I'm a witch?" There was a pinch of enthusiasm on Emma's voice. It made Regina try- and fail- to hide a smirk.

"There's potential. Now, let's release the beast into the wild, shall we?"  
"Sure."

Regina opened the balcony door. "Let him go, then."  
"I'm not holding him."

"Miss Swan… Someone is and it's not me."

"I'm not_"

Regina moved behind Emma which left the door frame open to the eyes of the ball room. Subtly, Regina clapped Emma in the back, much like you'd do when someone is chocking. Immediately Emma released her magic hold on Roderick. Emma's face was the one of shock. There was so much magic in the woman it was a wonder things did not explode around her.

Unfettered by his _only just_ experience, Roderick turned to Emma in a daze. "Princess… may I have this dance?" To Emma it was like being in the Matrix. A glitch in the system.

"Actually, Roderick, I was kind of hoping to dance with my daughter… You have enjoyed a dance and a private interlude. We wouldn't want people to talk, now, would we?"

"Quite right, Your Highness…" Roderick mumbled, clearly uncertain of what he was agreeing too. Discretely, Regina flicked her wrist again and gave a memory of _interluding_ with Emma. That should take care of things. Though it set her nerves on edge. She'd just have to remove it later (only because there was no telling what he might do with a memory like _that_, of course.)

She curtsied to Emma mostly for the benefit of a room full of people and followed Roderick while Emma took James' hand and made her way to the dance floor.

"Princess, may I have this dance?" James bowed, a smile as bright as Emma's, the dimples, the openness.

"Hey, look at you! You look… impressive."

He smoothed the deep red of his military jacket. "Well, I'm the king. Better be impressive."

"Suits you. Dad."

"I like that. Kid. Come, let's dance." Taking Emma by the hand, James led her to the centre of the dance floor. He bowed and she curtsied. And then, still counting steps, Emma danced with her father, two steps at a time and a twirl. "I must thank Regina."

"Hey! I put in the hours too."

"And they were worth it. Every single minute of it."

"Did I do well at dinner?"  
"You did wonderfully. Though you can do no wrong. You know that, right?" Actually, no, she didn't. But being told so (even if it was not quite true) well, that was just the best feeling.

"Thank you! How much longer until it is not considered rude for me to get out of here?"

"Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I'm not into blood sports. Seriously, get a pair of breasts and a dress and come to one of these. Or just the dress."

"Pass. Though I'm pretty sure I'd look good in a dress."

"Red is totally your colour."

"Ready for big twirl?"

"Just make sure I don't show my feet."

"Okay. Do I want to know why?" And as the music swelled up for a finale, James twirled his daughter in his arms, delighted to hear her laugh.

"No. Not really." He should have been the one to teach her to dance, but he would take this. He twirled her once again and then did a backwards dip that had them both laughing whole heartedly. Father and daughter.

"May I have this dance, Your Highness?" Cousin Alfred approached eagerly.

Emma couldn't be sure this was the worst timing for a filter to start working. She released her father's arm and held Alfred's arm.

"Just make sure you don't step on her feet."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"You have a beautiful smile, Princess."

"Thank you."

"And what a… _modern_ dress."

_Oh man, life is too short for this. _Emma thought bitterly as she smiled and nodded thoughtfully, hoping for a miracle, that he was not asking her anything that could not be answered with either yes or no

It seemed to be sufficient for cousin Alfred and so he ploughed on until her ears were ringing. There is only so much you can tune out. Deliberately, she put her foot forward, just giving him the opportunity to step on it. Which he did. There was a moment of regret because he certainly was heavier than he looked, but limping suitably, Emma made her way back to first the wall she could find.

It was unfortunate, then, that yet another cousin, or cousin's cousin, decided to make a pass at her and spout out sound bites about cornflower blue eyes and pomegranate lips and flaxen hair. She'd ask Regina what it meant. She wasn't quite sure he wasn't insulting her.

"Look, it is really sweet of you, but, really, I'm a little tired now." She looked out for rescue. Snow or James, preferably, but anyone would do. The cousin or cousin's cousin looked slightly taken aback.

"Your Highness?"

"I think I'll retire now." She signaled _Bertha_ who dutifully- and limpingly- made her way to her.

"I wish to retire now, Bertha."

"My lady." Regina bowed affecting an old woman's difficulty and made her way towards the gilded doors of the ballroom.

As Emma walked across the long expanse of the room, she could feel all eyes falling on her. Snow and James both intercepted her on her way out and made a show of the farewells. Emma felt much better the moment they were out of that room.

It wasn't like she didn't trust Regina, but she'd been terrified all night that she might let the disguise slip. What would her dear family of snakes do to her then?

"I'm glad this is over. I'm tired of the _how do you dos_ and all the hand shaking. Firm but not overwhelming. Shaken but not stirred. Life is too short for this."

"And yet, there is always time for courtesy, Princess." Regina remarked.

"I hate it when you call me that."

"I hate it when you make me call you that. I just feel I have to keep on reminding you of what is at stake here."

And seemingly to hammer the point home, Henry jumped from the shadows.

"Hi Emma. You look great."  
"Henry! You should be asleep."

"Are you kidding? It's not even 11 o'clock. It's not that much past my bedtime. Just don't tell mom."

"I don't think I have to." Henry did a double take.

"Why?"

Emma turned to the old woman and gave her a _come on_ sort of look. Regina simply let the disguise extinguish and her features smoothed out, her back straightened and she gained her lost three inches.

"Wow. That's so cool, mom!"

"Be that as it may, you should be in bed. 9 o'clock means lights out."

"Sorry. I just wanted to see Emma dance. Can you teach me that?"

"I'll think about it. But the outcome is not promising because _it is_ past 11 and you're up."

"Going, going. Good night Emma. Good night mom." And he hugged them both in turn before shooting up through whatever passage he had just come from.

"Was that a secret passage?"

"It's only secret to you." Regina leaned against the wall. "He hugged me."

"He did. He's a good kid. And he missed you. Wherever you've been all this time. Where have you been?"  
"I can't say."

"What do you mean you _can't say_? You don't know where you've been?  
"We've been through this, Miss Swan, I _cannot _say. Can we change the subject?"

"Sure." She paused for a second. "How did I do?"

"You did… Okay."

"Only okay?"

"Well, you didn't kill or maim anyone, only one minor scuffle. I'd say _okay_ is a good mark."

"I feel like celebrating my okayness."

"With alcohol, I presume."

"Unless you have a better option." For a moment, Emma hoped Regina would have a better option. Something that could make her blood boil for all the right reasons instead of the simmering anger and not a little fear. She needed to feel alive. For some reason, she wanted to feel that _aliveness_ with Regina. But Regina offered nothing but a tired smile. "No? How about skinny dipping in the lake?"

"It's January. And it is snowing outside. You'll catch your death."

"Regina…."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Oh, Regina could see it, the hunger, the simmering need. She understood it. She was uniquely qualified. That need to celebrate surviving to fight another day. She knew it chapter and verse.

And it was tempting.

"Go to sleep, Princess." And those were difficult words to say. Her blood asked of her the same thing Emma's was asking. The need was the same. The hunger. Even the loneliness, Regina had come to understand. But this kind of impulse had never worked out so well for her. Affection was… complicated. And when _the family_ left, so would Regina, her usefulness outlived. There was no point in letting herself into flights of fancy. No point at all. Her goodbyes might as well be clean cut and start now.

"Good night, Princess." And she closed the door behind her.

She could only hope closing other doors was as easy as closing her bedroom behind her.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was damned good rum. It hit just the right spot. The ball had made her thirsty and angry and rum was just the quencher she needed. She knocked back one more tumbler of the stuff and tossed herself on the quilted bed, groaning. Her body was asking her for things she could not quite understand, her heart beating anxiously, trying to confess something she didn't want to hear. She got up and filled her glass once more. Damned good rum. Good little rum, already doing what it was supposed to do.

She stood and paced the length of the room, the dress flapping behind her. What was the point of looking like this (so pretty), of feeling like this (successful) if there was no one that wanted any part of it with her? She kicked at the first piece of furniture her foot found, a dainty little chest of drawers. The bottom drawer came unhinged. Well, shit, the servants were going to burst a blood vessel and Snow was going to throw a fit of TLC and perhaps it was best just to fix it. If no one could see it, it would almost be as if it had never happened.

Damned provident of Regina to let her try her luck at such a large pitcher too, because she needed it right now. One more glass and the heat started radiating from her belly towards her muscles. Any minute now, that buzzing in her blood would die down. Any minute now. She took the drawer out of its place and did her best to fix it. It did not look pretty, but it might escape scrutiny for a while.

It tempted her to kick it again. Just so she could take it out on something.

Something in the back of her mind told her she was overreacting, but it was only a whisper compared to the way the anger was shouting and screaming. She hated Regina, she hated her fancy manners and her tea cups and cream cakes, her forks and spoons and knives. She hated her _yeses_ and her _beg your pardons_. The dresses and the apples. She hated everything – down to the last chocolate- about her because there were enough problems in her life without adding one more to it. She hated Regina for not being in the same way inclined. And she hated her because she wanted something she couldn't quite put a name to. That was embarrassing in its own right.

She should have made a more valiant effort at kissing princes at the ball. Hell, she should go out right now and start kissing random frogs because odds were- this being the effin' Enchanted Forest and all- that one would actually turn into a prince. One she could even fall in love with. One who could tell her of his whereabouts for the last 12 months. One who had not cursed a kingdom into another universe. And while she was on the by request section of the programme, one who had no manners at all because she was tired of those. Just you wait, Regina. Just you wait. You'll be sorry, but by then it will be too late.

She helped herself to a generous portion of the pitcher of water turned rum, grabbed her jacket and walked out through the service entrance, music permeating the air and aggravating her to an inch of sanity. If only they had google here. How do you go about finding frogs?

"Here froggie!"

_Oh don't be so stupid, Emma, frogs don't come to your call. _And probably hibernated when there was snow. Which was knee deep. The rum went a long way to ward off the cold, but her dress was now a limp mass of dirty pink dragging behind her in the fresh white coat on the ground, doing nothing to warm her up. Her jacket was nearly as useless. There was the hope that if she found the right frog, she could maybe kiss it and when it became a prince, he could hold her in his arms and warm her up. And make her forget about… well, about… How do you call girl frogs?

_The lake. Frogs like water._ But the lake was frozen solid, a layer of fluffy snow covering it, shining silver in the moonlight. _Looks like a postcard. But where the hell did all the frogs go? It is fairy tale land, it shouldn't manner if it is winter._

She took one more swig of her rum. If it ran out, she could just MacGyver it: melt snow with the handy fireballs she-who-would-not-be-named had taught her and turn it into rum . Or Whisky. Or forget about melting the snow and just punch a stick into the snow and make a whisky popsicle. "Here froggie!"

She laughed at herself slightly. Stupid, stupid Emma. And then she saw something moving in the thick of the undergrowth, under a tree, protected from the snow. _Frog,_ Emma though and launched herself at it. Her hands touched something slimy and cold. She grabbed it and the thing squirmed enough that it escaped Emma's hold on it. _Please let it be a frog._ Which was a strange thought to be had, but this was a strange place anyway and after the last few weeks, was there anyone keeping score anyway. Her hands were too cold to grab anything, but the rum warmed her gut and gave her a sense of quest. She had to find her frog.

Stumbling and falling in the snow, she again saw her future prince. "C'mere".

She closed both hands around it and got out of the copse of trees. She studied the frog in the moonlight. "Why do you think it's okay to… _flounce_ yourself in front of a girl and just… go away? Huh? That is not okay. Not cool."

Emma was shivering violently now but there was a frog to be kissed. If only it did not look so much like a frog. "You better be worth it. And believe you me, you will not live this down. I will remind you until the end of my days that I saved your sorry ass." She looked at the terrified frog. Better get on with the kissing. It was far too cold for this kind of romancing in the moonlight. She raised the frog again to her face. Ah, gross! "This would be easier if you were a dog. Why is it never dogs or cats that need kissing, huh?"

This time, she gathered enough courage and kissed the frog on its head, carefully avoiding the mouth part. She'd watched the discovery channel at times. And these things ate flies and other disgusting things with their mile long tongue. She was pretty sure that even Enchanted Forest frogs had the same feeding habits. No sir. Not on the mouth.

She fell into a sitting position on the snow. "How long does it take for you to change back?" The frog simply croaked in protest and wiggled a little more. Emma squeezed it a little bit further to avoid the escape but started to worry whether she was damaging some important bits on her future prince. It was possibility. She could not feel her hands and maybe she was holding on to or squeezing some important boy parts on the frog. "Maybe I have to kiss you on the mouth. You better be worth it, champ." She closed her eyes and reluctantly pressed her lips to the cold, wet skin. _Oh god, Emma this is a whole new low. Even for you._

At least, the shaking had stopped.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina could not sleep. Her heart hammered in her chest and the only thing happening was a lot of tossing and turning. The back of her head told her _what's the harm, _but the rest of it told her _you know better_. While there was a promise that Henry might visit her if he wanted, there was nothing about the princess visiting. The thing about loneliness is that, unless you have something to compare it against, you can fool yourself. It was probably best to keep to her side of the dividing line and save herself the ache. She went to the window. The moon was washing into her room, bright and clear despite the heavy snow showers earlier in the day. February was cruelly cold even if it presented with remarkably pretty moonlit nights.

She put a blanket over her shoulders and let herself be calmed by the beauty of the frozen lake at her feet. And then something disturbed the witness of the snow. A streak of blood-like red on the snow. She tried to get a better view of what it was but from the tower, it was nearly impossible to see with any detail.

And yet, her heart began a furious pounding. It was not. It could not. No one would be so deeply stupid as to go out into the snow in a ball dress. She did not waste time with flicks of wrists. In a thought she was dressed, pants and blouse, heavy woolen cloak. In another, she was materializing in the snow next to the blood red streaking it. She was going to kill Emma Swan. If Emma Swan survived this, well understood. The princess was white as the snow as if there was no blood left in her.

"What on earth are you doing here, Miss Swan?" But when she turned her, the princess had her eyes closed and that, more than anything, more than the shallow breathing or the total absence of body heat scared Regina. "Emma?" Regina sat on the snow and rolled Emma's body into her. Emma needed to wake up. This was the kind of sleep you did not wake up from. "Emma? Please, just… She took Emma's hands in hers and tried to warm her up and then her face. Which was when she got a measure of her own stupidity. Emma had to be taken out of the cold and taken inside where it was warm and she could call for help. She tried to push up from her sitting position but though Emma was slight of body, her dead weight was more than Regina could hope to lift. And that was when she had one more moment of_ duh_. She had magic. She held Emma tightly in her arms and concentrated on moving both their bodies up to Emma's room. Preferably to Emma's bed because here was no way she was going to be able to move her from the floor up.

In a deep breath, she was up in the tower in Emma's bed chamber. She disentangled herself form Emma and moved around the room, poking the dying fire with her magic and conjuring up warm tea with brandy. When she could think of nothing else, she sat by Emma's still form. "Emma, I'll kill you if something happens to you. Mark my words."

And with that, she took Emma's freezing boots off and started rubbing the frozen feet, alternating with rubbing her hands.

"Don't rub." Came the weak voice.

"You're awake. You moron, you're awake. I'm going to kill you. What were you doing outside?"  
"Nothin'" Was the small reply. Regina went back to rubbing Emma's feet. "No rubbin'. Bad. That's bad."

"Why? Does it hurt?"

"No. Nothing hurts. Feels warm. Not good. Sorry." And she closed her eyes again.

"Emma, I swear, I'll destroy you if you die now!"

"Drama queen…" Regina had to strain to hear the words.

"What do I do? Emma, what do I do?"  
"Rubbing is bad… the heart."

"Okay, rubbing is bad." Regina got up and poked the fire a bit more. She felt hopeless and one thought away from getting Snow from the ball and getting her up here to deal with her idiot child.

"Lay down with me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hypothermia. Body heat. Good."  
"Okay. Okay, I can do that." Well, sort of. It sounded a lot like cuddling. Regina did not do cuddling. She was not equipped for the _intimacy_ of it. For where that might take them or what memories and thoughts and esires it might leave her with. But Emma was white. Not purple. She was past purple. She was white. She took off her own boots and slipped into bed.

"Naked."

"WHAT?"

"Body heat." _Like that explains everything_. "I'm so cold."

Regina did not waste time on subtlety and modesty. She removed Emma's dress with a wave of her finger. There were no goose bumps on Emma's skin. No shivering. Just that deathlike stillness. _Well, damn_. She took her clothes off and slid into bed with Emma and pulled her into her own body. If she had imagined the night ending this way (which she hadn't, no, absolutely not!) this would not have been how she would have imagined it. She shook almost uncontrollably when Emma's frozen body fit into hers, painfully cold. When the royal cute button nose snuggled into her neck, she did her best to remain upset at the stupidity of it the woman.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

There was not much Emma could really feel except the numbness, the loginess of her limbs, useless every single one of them. Gradually, her body thawed into warmth, feeling returning and she almost wished it didn't because it burned and it hurt like dogs gnawing at her.

The funny thing was that as sensation returned- all steeped in pain- so did awareness of another body so close to hers, surrounding her, a source of heat.

Emma surrendered into that feeling of goodness.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It was difficult to say how long, but after some time, and though her body remained as cold as before (or so it seemed), Emma began to shiver and then shake, shaking so violently her teeth seemed to rattle in her mouth. She clumped them together in an effort to stop it, lips pursed, her expression one of intense pain.

It scared Regina, the helplessness. Surely there was a spell, something she could do, but her brain was addled since the moment she saw Emma laying on the snow. She held Emma tighter for lack of something better to do and whispered _it's going to be okay, it's going to be okay_ hoping to convince herself in the process.

The shivering subsided slowly, periods of almost stillness peppered with violent tremors during which Regina simply held on tighter. After sometime, Regina simple gave into exhaustion though aware enough to feel Emma relax into her, an arm moving from its strained position parallel to the body to circling around her waist and back, pulling closer.

This was not good, she tried to tell herself. Not good on so many levels.

Regina fell asleep with Emma firmly snuggled into her.

Trouble was, it didn't feel half bad.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The Queen made her way through the corridors of the tower where all the family had their quarters. These were not traditional living accommodations for the royal family but both Henry and Emma loved the view and since living for almost 29 years in snug accommodations in Storybrooke, the tower rooms did not feel unwelcoming, they felt homely.

Henry was up and running, soaking up the hunting party atmosphere though Snow had begged James not to take the child. Wilderness and feral relatives with no blood loyalty made for a bad combination. She needed to get Emma up, though. It would be good for her to be seen sending off the hunting party, to hand out a favour to one of the hunters. It was good politics and good part of the show anyway. She would have expected Regina to point that out to Emma. But the hunters were gathering in the gateway and still no Emma.

Snow took into account the events of the previous night. Maybe they had made Emma nervous. It certainly had been a close call with Roderick and she had Regina to thank for saving appearances. Though that was part of the job. She should have approached Emma about it the previous night. Given her some reassurance, perhaps. Sometimes she forgot Emma needed it.

She adjusted the tray with tea and toast to knock on the door and open it with her foot which was no mean feat of balance and coordination that made her proud of herself. Until she looked up from the tray into the bed and first thing she noticed were the two naked forms in each other's arms, soundly asleep.

She didn't do it purpose. Her hands seized, that was all, and the tray smashed on the floor, a mess of china shards and jam and hot liquid. She didn't mean it, but her throat constricted and she gasped and then ran, Regina's naked body burning still in her eyes. Regina naked in the same bed as her child.

She ran as fast as she could.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina was pulled from sleep by the crashing of china. She jolted on the bed sitting upright, covers sliding down her. Immediately her body grieved for the loss of heat of the body next to hers, but Snow was there looking at her- _them, oh, them_- like she was about to turn into a statue of salt and then running out of the door as if she had death on her heels.

"Snow!" Came her own agonizing scream without her even noticing. "Snow!"


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Snow!" There was a horrid sense déjà vu. They had been here before and she was sill terrified by what Snow would do next and she still needed to stop her. It was a reflex, nothing more. Snow saw something she shouldn't, Regina ran after to placate. So simple it was pavlovian.

She jumped out of the bed and made to run after Snow, but a hand held on to hers, a hand so warm and comforting.

"Don't go!"

But Regina was beyond urgency.

"I need to tell her, I need to show her that nothing happened. I need to go".

"No, you don't."

"You don't understand. Last time…"

"She'll get over it." But Regina knew better. She knew the consequences by heart. And this could not be such a cycle, because what else was there for her to lose. "'Gina, you're naked."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It was not Regina's magic that had her dressed. It was tired, tentative magic, the kind that believes. Emma imagined Regina dressed and that was that.

She wished she could imagine Regina out of her panic, out of running after Snow, out of feeling like she had too. She wished she could imagine Regina back in her bed because it felt better than anything had in a very, very long time.

She got up, and got dressed, no magic involved, she didn't know if she could pull it off, and set off, leaving the ruin of breakfast on the floor behind her.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"It's not what you're thinking." Regina pleaded walking behind Snow.

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Snow, please. It's not… she was sick and_"

"She was perfectly well when she left the ball yesterday, Regina."

"Yes, but she went out and… in the snow. She went out in the snow and_"

"Please don't. I'm not judging. I just… Is this like…? It just feels like we did this before. And I am still so sorry for it all."

Something in Regina's gut squeezed so very painfully. Yes it did. It was that night and the days after all over again, squeezed in this one minute. "It's not…" But it came out tentative and rolled into an almost sob.

"God, Regina, she's my daughter."

"I didn't... I just… she was so cold."

It must have been the tone that gave Snow pause. "Why did she go out?"

"To get some frogs kissed" Emma replied from the door, dragging herself through it. Good thing Snow was predictable. It took no effort at all to find her. The only effort was getting there.

"To do what?"

Emma slumped into the first chair she reached.

"Frog kissing."

Regina had moved to her, light and quick. "What's that on your mouth?" Regina asked approaching her charge. The ugliness in Emma's mouth was sufficient to pull her from the _back then_ and into the _now_.

Emma touched her lips and winced. "Don't know. But it hurts"

"Stop touching it." Regina took Emma's face in her hands and turned her to the light. "Did you really touch one?"

"Yeah… two, three… I don't know… I might have been seeing double."  
"Did you… kiss it?"  
Free of the rum and adrenaline, Emma felt embarrassed. "Huh… yeah."

"_Yes_, not _yeah_." Regina corrected automatically.

"Why on earth would you kiss a frog?" Snow asked, her face screwed tight around a frown. "There were so many princes and nobles yesterday at the ball. Surely one of them might have…" She looked tentatively at Regina.  
"Yes, well, be thankful you're all set, _mom._"

"It wasn't a frog."  
"What?" Mother and daughter both asked simultaneously.

"Toad. It was a toad. They're venomous."

"Am I going to die?"

"Nonsense. They're not that dangerous. But you will have a few nasty blisters for your troubles."

"Can you cure it?" Emma asked, her hopeful smile gone under the pain of the blistering.

"Sure. I'll go down to the kitchen and prepare something."

"Can't you… like… spell it away?"

"Why waste a perfectly good spell when an unguent will do?"

"Unguent… Are you trying to punish me?"

"Whatever for?"

"For making you rescue me?"  
"No, dear, absolutely not. But while I'm at it, I might as well teach you one more lesson."

"Which is?"  
"Be more selective about where you put your mouth."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow knew she was stubborn. It was a birth defect. Like a club foot or a big ears. She was stubborn. Oh, she relented in the end. Knowing that Regina had saved her silly, silly baby from dying of equal parts exposure and stupidity went a long way to help her live with what she'd seen in that bed.

But she was stubborn and, stubbornly, she decided that Regina saving Emma was what the contract stipulated. And as with everything in it, there was no escaping its determinations. You just did what was in the contract. No choice at all.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina relented. The unguent she had prepared smelled a lot like urine and she had gagged a little applying it on Emma's lips. And the woman looked pitiful with the large blisters making it increasingly difficult to talk. One careful swipe of her finger and the ugly, wart-like blisters were gone.

"There, all better."

"Damn, you're good." Emma touched her mouth. "Thank you."

"You scared me, last night." Regina slumped on the bed, perhaps under the weight of the confession.

"Sorry."

"You should be. What went through your head?"

"Rum?" _And plenty of it._

"Figures."  
"I felt lonely." And that was more information than Regina could cope with. She was silent for a while, seemingly absorbed in the falling snow outside Emma's window, the forest gradually covered by a blanket of whiteness.

She wanted to tell Emma that loneliness was also part of the job description. That it was unfair that there was no disclosure agreement before you took up the position, but it was a fact nonetheless. Except she couldn't bring herself to say it, as if doing so might set it in stone.

God, she was becoming one of those bleeding heart liberals headed by Snow and she wanted to pinch herself into good working order.

"You need to do a better job of keeping yourself safe. There is so much- so many- that depend on your safety. Isn't that why we've been at this for so long now?"

"I guess. I'm feeling pretty shitty, though. You don't need to flog this dead horse any further."

"Emma, if I have to beat you up to keep you safe, I will." Regina touched Emma's forehead with her palm. There was a fever there, low grade, but a fever.

"That makes you a great teacher."

"Yes, it does. Now, let's get you some Enchanted Forest version of a cold and flu medicine, shall we?"

"No spells?"

"It's the common cold, Your Highness. There is no spell."

"What's the Enchanted Forest version?"

"Toad drool."

"Very funny. I was kind of hoping for some Tylenol."

"You can hope all you want. _Princess_."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow would be happy when this visit was over. Under the cover of civility, she was in constant fear for Emma and Henry's lives. The thought of abdication crossed her mind more frequently as the hours went by. Surely, they could live somewhere _the family_ would not find them. Who needs a throne to be happy? They had each other. They had their happy ever after.

Anything was better than constantly looking over your shoulder, trying to anticipate the attack, trying to live with the threat. And still try to be happy which is never a guarantee anyway, not even in the Enchanted Forest.

And then she looked at the marks left by them in the palace, in the village, in her people. She considered that, as long as they were alive, abdication or not, she and hers would always be a threat to _the family_. They would never have peace. And that was as far removed from _the ever after_ she envisioned as could be.

So Snow oversaw yet one more menu, yet one more entertainment for the night. More music, more dancing, more dresses. More veiled threats, more subtle rebukes, more words crossed like swords.

This time, Henry would be introduced formally as the second in line to the throne and she feared for the little boy. Henry was well beyond his years and could be counted on to mind his tongue in a way that Emma, until Regina, could not. But still, there were things that might be said. She was well aware of Henry's lack of male parent. He had two mothers that loved him and not a one male surname to shut the vultures down. She wanted to protect him as much as possible, but even such a sweet boy could not be seen as weak. He would have to attend tonight's entertainment. And her heart hurt for him in anticipation.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Hung over and sick. Emma's head was hazy. She had a fever still and felt generally like roadkill. Her fuzzy brain insisted on calling out images of Regina. Or better put, sensations of Regina, because safe for the violent awakening part, she hadn't seen much. But the sensations? Oh, there was the warmth, of course. The smoothness. The tightness. The scent. How very strange, to think about that, to dwell on it with something akin to cherish. It was a strange, strange turn of events. Maybe it was the loneliness. They seemed to be two birds out of place though for different reasons, both thrown into the same gilded cage. Loneliness, she supposed, was as good a bond as any.

Regina brought her lunch in her room. Chicken soup and milk with honey. Rosemary bread, oranges.

"Your lunch Princess."

"Yummy?"

"You better believe it. All the good food for sick babies."

"Are you sassing me?"

"You should know by now that I am unfamiliar with the concept."

"Huh. Right. I'm not really hungry, though."  
"I draw the line at spoon feeding you, Miss Swan. Pick up a spoon and feed yourself. Consider it part punishment for your childish stunt last night."

"See? You _were_ sassing me."

"Eat, Miss Swan. You are likely to enjoy the next part even less."

"Why? What's next?"

"Welcoming the victor hunters home. You really need to make an appearance."

"Ah, hell!"

"Eat."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma did make an appearance. Form a safe distance on the high scenic bridge. Regina had insisted on a heavy woolen forest green dress complete with a fancy pants hat and what Regina called a stole which was another fancy pants way of wearing a dead animal. But it was warm. And that was welcome because she was starting to think that she would never feel warm again.

She had senther_ apologies_ to the guests, which was yet one more fancy pants thing. A polite version of an extended middle finger from someone who could not be bothered. It worked out well, Snow reassured. Make herself scarce, create an expectation and all that. Of course, it would all hinge on there not being any signs of sickness or weakness the following day at the farewell do.

It was a course of action she was growing very fond of: leave it for the last day, postpone, avoid. She was learning to enjoy that.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

And then the very last day of visit was upon them and a terrible sense of foreboding with it. She had been made to believe this visit would be a potential assassination attempt. She had been on high alert, worrying every day of their presence that she might come to bed to find a horse's head on her white sheets and, so far, it had been perfectly anticlimactic. Only a tiny, insignificant, whiff of trouble that hardly justified so many spoons, forks, knives, cream cakes and curtsies.

Of course, that might still change. Snow and Regina agreed on nothing except the menace they perceived from _the family_ a word they used as if there was nothing else to rival the concept. Or as if they were living in an episode of The Sopranos.

Of course they were mean. Sarcastic and full of bull. Ridiculous in a silk and brocade way. But, so far, it seemed that their bark was worse than their bite. And that had Snow and Regina on edge. James seemed to take it all in stride. But then again, daddy dearest and Emma were the outsiders. They were the ones that had never met them before.

So Emma decided to put in the effort without much complaining. That decision only lasted until the next meringue was brought to her room: another mile or so of mousseline, baby blue this time. Seriously? Snow had, quite possibly, the worst memory ever (except for holding a grudge which she seemed to do remarkably well). They had lived together in Storybrooke. Emma did not own a single piece of pink and her one baby blue item was a man's shirt.

She had to wonder if Snow had any concern for her taste. This time, armed with her own magic (of the _close your eyes and believe variety_), she looked at the dress, concentrated and imagined something else. Her mind's eye idled between strong bold reds, classy blacks, deep dark blues. Even a fiery orange that gave her cause for laughing. She settled on a black backless number. She pictured it and opened her eyes: _voilá_.

"I'm screwed." The dress seemed to have been unceremoniously dipped into every colour she'd pictured and was, in fact, an unmitigated disaster. _Totally screwed._

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Obviously, _dead_ was far more appropriate an expression for what was about to happen when Regina came into her room and saw the dress.

"You did that!" And it sounded like an accusation slash disappointment slash anger. _Huh oh. _

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be."  
"Regina, come on, you know Snow's dresses are…"

"I know what they are. I saw this one."  
"So how can you blame me?"

"You silly girl! Not for changing the dress. I could not care less about that pastel aberration. But I thought I taught you better than that. Tell me that you were having an off moment, because if I have to send you in to that dinner party this poorly armed I might just cry now."

"You're not upset about the dress?"  
"Let me use tiny little words for you: No. I am not."

"So you're upset about…"

"About your simpleton approach to magic."

"Hey, hold on…"

Regina took the stained dress in her hand. "Case in point! I can even tell what you've done here: you started the process before you decided on something. Were you reviewing wardrobe choices?"  
"But you can still fix it, right?"

"I'd rather not, thank you very much."

"I'm screwed."

"But don't be so dramatic, dear. Come. What had you finally set on when you made your choice?"

"Something black. Backless. Pretty… and shinny."

"That is not appropriate."

"It's an evening dress."

"Yes, in a kingdom that was once ruled by the big bad Evil Queen."  
"I don't_"  
"Of course you don't understand, dear. As much as I approve of the choice, it would be like serving them apple turnovers. It just would not go down well despite how good they are."

"Black was your colour?"

"Like it could have been any other. Now. Get rid of that thing, will you?" And Regina disappeared into the walk in closet full of dresses placed there by Snow's hopeful hands and left there by Emma's rebellious nature. "We can start from this one." And she took yet another blue mousseline monstrosity. "At least I won't be sorry to see it… modified."

"Regina… Can I be honest?"

"Absolutely not." Emma gave her a raised eyebrow that could well be an accusation. "When someone asks if they can be honest, they're just expecting your permission to hurt you." Regina spoke as she laid a corset and stockings on the bed next to Emma.

"Well, I just want to confess to something…"  
"There's that as well. People confess their sins, their little transgressions because that makes them feel better about themselves, never mind what it does to other people."

Emma sunk into her mattress. Fine. She could do this. She could grin and bear as Regina put it all the time. She could put on a pretty smile and pretend she was the king of the world.

"Strip." Regina commanded.

"What?"

"Corset. You're going to wear one."  
"Why?"  
"Because I say so." Regina did her best to be harsh, but Emma's crestfallen expression was a haunting of its own. "Very well, confess away, Miss Swan."

Emma would have loved to be spiteful, but her stomach was being devoured from the inside. "I'm a little scared."

"Good." Emma's expression was all _Seriously?_ Regina relented. "Of what?"  
"That I'm going to lose it."  
"It hasn't been so bad until now…"  
"That little…. trouble that night… I couldn't keep it together."  
"Disaster averted. You shouldn't think about it."

"He called me a whore. Pretty much called Henry a bastard."

"That's because he is an impotent, cuckolded, sorry excuse for royalty that was just trying to get a rise out of you."  
"And he did. That's my point."  
"He got lucky."  
"No, you were right. They studied me, did whatever it is this place's version of Google is on me and realised that Henry is my weak spot. Henry is my weakness."

Regina handed Emma her stockings with a head movement that indicated _put them on_. This was about to hit home, again, she could feel it. "Because you love him?"

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Emma, my darling mother told me many years ago that love is weakness."

"She was right, wasn't she?"

"It took me a long time to realize this, but she was a _heartless _liar." There was just so much that could not be said then. Regina settled for pulling Emma to her feet and pushing the corset into her chest. "Turn around."

Emma turned, holding the corset to her. Behind her, Regina began the painstaking task of lacing the corset. There was something therapeutic about doing this without magic. Could have been the skin so close to her fingers, but she would not dwell on it.

"That guy called him a bastard."

"Emma, ignore them."

"His father was a bastard. Henry is good kid. If they say something in front of him tonight, all hell's gonna break loose. We may all end up dead after tonight. And everyone is expecting me to be… flawless." When the ribbons were threaded through all the wholes, Regina began the process of pulling them, adjusting the corset to Emma's form.

"Words have power, don't they?"  
"Yes. I'm a witch. I believe that. But I also know that they only have the power that you let them have." Regina pulled the ribbons harder now, starting at the top, pulling on them and gaining inches slowly.

"I cannot breathe, Regina. I'm going to need air tonight. And luck. What do people do for luck in the Enchanted Forest?"

"How should I know?" Regina continued pulling at the ribbons, starting at the top, descending one crisscross at a time until she reached the pending ribbons draping over Emma's bottom. "And breathing is overrated."

"No it's not. Loosen it up."

"Or what?" Emma considered for a moment.

"Or I'm gonna tell my mom?" With an evil smirk, Regina pulled the ribbons even tighter using as much upper body strength as she could muster.

"There." She turned Emma into the full length mirror. "Look at that!"

"Yeah? Where? Cause if I turn on my side, I'm invisible."

"That's the point."

"Being invisible?"  
"Indeed. Just avoid talking."  
"Funny. And you didn't answer my question."

"Which was?"

"What do people do for luck around here?"

"How should I know?"

"You're a native. You're my tutor."

"Nevertheless. I am not superstitious."

"You're a witch."

"Exactly. I am what people are superstitious of. Use some of your rituals. Cross your fingers, jump three times if it makes you feel better."

"I can't say I'm all that confident with any of the stuff from back home. Never gave me any luck anyway."  
"Well, make your own."

"How?"

"Look at yourself. Just distract them with your cleavage. That should bring you plenty of luck."  
Emma looked at herself. She had some serious breasts with the corset. Where had those come from? "I can always hit someone with these."

"Wouldn't that be a waste?" _Filter, Regina, _she reminded herself flushing all the way to her hairline. "Now, enough talking. Put this on."

"Speaking of waste…"

"Such little faith…" Emma stepped into the dress regretting that she could not attend dinner in her undergarments. For once, she felt like a princess. From the corset to the stockings by way of the most ridiculously small thong. Trust her to be the underpants princess, but man did she look good in it. Even if she could not breathe.

The dress was, as dresses go, the dress version of _Sound of Music_ against the _Chicago_ Emma wanted to wear. But Regina stood back and it was as if she was drawing in the air. The dress seemed to have a life of its own, molding itself to her body, sinfully tight, all sinews and curves aligned with her curves, a short train and a truly spectacular cleavage. Okay, it was not black and shiny. It was still baby blue, but Emma could forgive it that. It was a very bold way to wear baby blue.

Standing back Regina studied it. Nipped and tucked a few more places. Added thick lace over the shoulders. It was a very _come hither don't stand so close _dress.

"And now for the final touch."

"There is more?" Regina replied with what had to be an incantation. She murmured words that Emma could not quite understand and when she looked at the dress, it was as if a river had been weaved into the material. It _shimmered _and changed colour like a river will do when the weather changes or when the light hits it.

"It's breathtaking, Regina." Yes, it was. Regina wanted it to be the expression in Emma's eyes, a colour that was never quite the same, that changed with her humour and her sadness, with the hope and the disappointment. Yes, breathtaking might just be right.

"That's probably the corset. You'll get used to it."

"Thank you."  
"Don't mention it. Now, in case I forget, be sure to be in your chambers by midnight."  
"Why?"

"The dress. It will transform back into a pumpkin. Which is to say, into that horrid shapeless blue." It was worth it just to see Emma's face, all worry about court politics forgotten. "The corset is too tight. It left no space for your sense of humour."

"You were kidding?"  
"Of course I was dear. How badly incompetent do you think I am? Honestly!"

"Ah… I thought the spell would have its limitations because you were not working naked."

"Do explain, Princess."

"Well, you know… witches work naked, don't they? Like spells in the full moon and chants and boobs hanging in the night…"  
"Where did you get that… that _revisionist_ nonsense from?"

"Books?"

"Figures."  
"Why?"

"Because most of those books must have been written by men."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Are you coming with me?"

"I'm sure you don't need me there anymore."

"I'm not. I'm a _rather safe than sorry _kind of girl."

"Huh. If you say so. Though – and please do not take this the wrong way- Henry's mere existence negates the fact."

"There's a hand full of knuckles right there, 'Gina."

"Can't believe this, but I apologise." It took Emma by surprise. Not so much that Regina had said sorry- she couldn't remember such an event- but that she wanted to… do something."

"Thank you!"

"Look at that, all your vowels without missing one!"But the smile she gave was a rueful one. "Now, your hair."  
"What about it?"  
"We must make a little more… _princessy_."

"In smaller words for peanut gallery, please."

"How about no words?" And one more swish of the finger, Emma's hair was falling perfectly straight like a waterfall of blond down her shoulders and back, complete with a small crown as… well, the crown of glory.

"Oh no, lose the crown!"

"No." Emma tried to take it off. It just would not move. For such a dainty little thing, it was very sturdy on her head. "Regina, please!"

"Mommy's orders, dear. We may get away with the dress, but not a missing crown."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"  
"Immensely. The intrepid Sheriff of Storybrooke, dragon slayer extraordinaire with a pretty little princess crown. I wish we had invented cameras here."

"You really are a witch, aren't you?"

"Disney says so."

"Do you believe Disney?"

"It sure is coming in handy now." Regina answered with a twisted evil smirk that made Emma a little week at the knees.

_Oh man._


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Regina was not quite sure she should attend. It was not something she would willingly admit to herself, but the _family_ did make her nervous. It was too close to all those years ago, all the solitary nights in festive ballrooms where thing and everybody had a place but her.

And still, something in her stomach coiled at the thought of knowing that Henry would be there, helpless in the middle of those vipers. At the untoward thought that Emma might need her.

In a practised move, purple smoke (which she really did not need to enact her magic, but she did have flare for the dramatic after all) she became, once again, Emma's lady in waiting, hunched and old, non threatening, fragile looking Bertha.

"You're coming!" Emma once again hugged her. "Thank you!"

"Yes, well, I don't think your mother will take kindly to you dying on my watch."

"Sure, whatever." She tightened her hug. "I'm just really glad you're coming with me. Hey, here's a thought: why don't you come as prince?" It was an old face, but Emma could still see the mocking expression without need for words. "Well, you're already used to me stepping on your toes…"  
"I have all the calluses to remember you by!"

"And you can keep me out of trouble…"  
"Not sure anyone can, dear."  
"And I won't have to put up with more crap than I strictly have too."  
"Ah… always so charming."

"You're not trying to kill me…"

"Not today, at least."

"We can pretend that we're in love…"

Pause for awkward on both sides.  
Regina recovered first. "And how would you explain the presence of an unknown prince?"

"A frog kissed all better." This time Regina had to laugh. It was such a beautiful sound that Emma would have made it a mission to hear again and again.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Ready?"

Well, no, not really, but there was not much point to her clinging to the door of her room and refusing to go in, was there? Because the idea actually had its appeal even if it severely lacked in merit.

"'Gina?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes, not yeah." Regina actually snorted. _Oh, dear god_.

"Indeed, Princess. Yes?"

"That pooffing thingy you did…" Regina's raised eyebrow was question enough for Emma. "When you pooffed us out of the snow and into my room…"

"Yes?"

"Teach me that."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."  
"Miss Swan, you should be going in through those doors in a few minutes. Tardiness is not good manners."  
"Please?"

"Why now?"

"While I still have the motivation."

"I may regret asking, but were you not motivated enough before?"

"Let's just say that I was procrastinating."  
"Procrastinating?"  
"It was word of the day. But…"  
"Okay."  
"I just think that I should have learnt more and done more and worked harder. Henry's going to be there and if something happens, I wanna be able to just grab the kid and _puff_ myself out of there and_"  
"Emma. I said okay."

Emma crossed her arms like a shield in front of her. "I thought you were going to say it's too late."  
"No. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Concentrate."

"On my ruby red heels? Do I say _There's no place like home_?"

Regina tried hard not to laugh.

"Something like that. Close your eyes and think where you want to go. Concentrate on that place. Think of it with your heart. That's where your magic is. Your heart." Bertha's old hand landed light, careful over Emma's heart. "Where do you want to go?"

"Can it be a place I _must_?"

"Most of times that's all we have to work with. So yes, it can."

"Right. The ballroom, then."  
"You're not hailing a cab. You don't need to say it. You just need to see it."

"Okay." Regina took her hand. When Emma looked at her, surprised. Regina felt the need to clarify.

"I go where you go. If something goes wrong, I need to know where you are."

"Okay." Emma closed her eyes. If ever there was time to not fail, this was it. She closed her eyes and _visualised_ the entrance to the ball room. She concentrated, her nose scrunched up, her eyebrows knitted together. And nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Look, it is not a simple thing. And you're nervous…"

And she really did not want to be there anyway. Henry. She concentrated on Henry, Henry's room, Henry's bedroom. And just like that, she felt her body go light, light and then she was there, on Henry' bed. Fully formed. Regina still holding on to her hand.

"Holy cow!" Henry screamed from his perch on a stool where James was adjusting a royal red coat on the boy that was a perfect copy of James'.

Emma and Regina had materialised in Henry's room, on Henry's bed.

"Not exactly the ball room, but nicely done, Princess." Bertha was beaming. "Can you believe it this was your first try?"

"That's just so cool. Mom?" He walked around Bertha, trying to make sure it was Regina. He was satisfied when the knobbly hand smoothed his hair down. "How did you do that?"

"Well, I didn't." Bertha spoke trying to move from the soft bed and failing to find purchase. Emma moved fast from her materialising spot and held her hand for Bertha to take, helping her out of the bed. "Emma did."

"Wow!"

"Wow indeed." James quipped with a smile. "Now, ladies, when you're ready. I'll go ahead. I need to catch up with Snow."

"See you there."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Ready?"

"Is it okay to be nervous?" Emma asked, draping her arms over Henry's.

"You're not accepting an Oscar, Miss Swan."

"I should though. I'm pretending to be someone I'm not."

"Oh, for the love of_ It's not that hard to curtsy and say _Glad to have met you_."

"I'm not glad at all to meet any of these b_"

"_Lovely people_, I'm sure you mean, Princess." And she gave Henry a pointed look.

"No. I mean_"

"If you want to stay alive, you will."

"You keep saying that. You have been saying it for the last hour."

"It is as true now as it was an hour ago. Now, deep breath. The play is about to begin."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She did. She nodded through the veiled insults and said "Glad to have you met you". Over and over again. She wished they could see her middle finger, raised in her mind if not in her hand.

She smiled through the dinner and through the gathering in the throne room. She had her hand kissed and nodded like any good politician and said thank you and please until her throat hurt from the effort.

She wined and dined them like the best of the politicians. She swapped pleasantries with the wives and the mothers. She fed the wolves with her bare hand.

She resisted poking them. She resisted setting the record straight. She resisted the very great temptation of explaining to them that Henry was a good boy, raised by a good mother. And that she had not been that good mother. And, just for kicks and giggles, that that mother was standing right behind them, magic flowing from her fingers like water from a fountain and that at any time she could fry them like a shrimp.

But she waved off the need.

She behaved.

She did everything everyone expected of her. She was a princess: in manners, in dress, in crown, in fact and in genes.

And then Snow approached her, a smile the size of her face. "Emma" There was quiet excitement in her voice. "Don't look now, but Roderick has approached your father and I?"

"Ballsy move for a rodent. What for?"  
"You hand?"

"My what, now?"  
"This is about it, Emma. This is the perfect proposal. You could not hope for better: he is powerful, well connected. This alliance could keep you safe. Keep us all safe. And it doesn't hurt that he is handsome and elegant, does it?"

"Snow…"

"He said he is _charmed_ by you!"

"Snow. Stop. Really. Did you think of this visit as a… I don't know, shopping for a husband?"

"No! I mean… no. But it wouldn't hurt you to consider it, would it? You've been alone for… well, quite some time. Does he not appeal to you?"

"I can't freaking believe we're having this conversation. In fact, I'm not having this conversation." And Emma trid to walk out.

"You called him "Dad."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You called him _dad_. But you call me _Snow_."

"I've called you _mom…_ What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you hate me?" Snow did a pathetic little pout.

"I don't" _Sucker!_ Emma called herself. She knew she was waltzing right into a trap. And still, she danced to Snow's tune.

"At least dance with him. Just one dance. What's the worst that can happen?"

"A lot?" Snow's lower lip trembled lightly.

"Alright, already. I'll dance. Happy?"  
"If you don't want to do it for me, at least do it for Henry."

_Man! Never an effin break._

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"She is manipulating me, right?" She whispered to Bertha as she moved through the throng.

"Yes, she is."

"I don't get it."  
"That's what royalty does."

"And why would he want to marry me?" Bertha blushed. "What memory did you put in his head?"

"Apparently, a lot."  
"At least look like you regret it."

_I do. _

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

That had to be the long and short of the success of the night because when Prince Charming Wannabe, waving black locks of hair and manicured hands approached her and manoeuvred her first into the window sill and then into a "quiet place", when he got handsy and she lost it, well, that would just have to be chalked up to the length of the night. That and the sense of déjà vu.

She would have waved it off when his hands caressed her, shoulder to hand (leaving behind a train of slime). She would have excused it when he clumsily complimented her eyes, her hair and her _bosom_ (you're no threat when you refer to a woman's boobs as _bosom_). And God knows she would have let it slide when he simply _leaned_ into her and aimed right for a kiss (because she was nothing if not sober and ducked it). But when he proposed marriage, when he told her he was offering her the opportunity to wash herself clean of her reputation if only she bore is children and offered them the throne, well… who could blame her, really, when her hand flew back, and her fist formed and then simply shot forwards, smacking him satisfactorily in the nose that promptly erupted in a stream of blood.

Regina certainly didn't. She had seen trouble coming the moment she saw him placing himself between Emma and the crowd. She could feel it in the way he took short small steps into Emma forcing her to walk backwards into the recess of the window just not to be touched by him. And she was absolutely sure that nothing good would come out of that when he took Emma's arm and drew her into the "quiet little place" by the throne room. Yes, this had all the trademarks of disaster, most particularly because he was clearly not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Others had approached Emma with similar intentions, careful to use words that allowed her room to misinterpret (which she did, quiet, but surely). No, this was the kind of pathetic that inbreeding produced: too arrogant to consider a _no_. Too dumb to give himself an outing.

By the time Regina walked into the quiet little room, he was already bleeding profusely into the dainty little chair where he dramatically collapsed, dripping his nosebleed onto Snow's white carpet. Emma was staring him down, murder in her eyes.

Regina locked the door behind her, magic easy in her fingertips, the type that comes from anger that needs no witness.

"If you're not here to help me hide the body, you're okay to leave."

One of the things Regina did not expect that night was the pathetic _Help me, Bertha_ uttered by the Roderick. Not that he could have ever figured out that the boy he had been insulting and belittling all night – to Emma and to anyone willing to listen- was her son. Clearly he was too dumb to breathe. So it was with great pleasure that she lifted the spell that cloaked her as Bertha and, in her full Evil Queen glory, smiled the deadliest of smiles.

"The… you're the…"

"Awww, look, it seems he has lost the power of speech!"

"Save yourself, Princess. Run! I will happily lay my life down for yours." Though he made no movement to overpower the Evil Queen.

"And now he get's gallant!" Emma mocked, Roderick's horrified eyes bulging out of his head.

"Are you out of mind? Do you not know who this hag is?" Roderick croaked.

"Don't call her a hag!" And in a move Emma considered of brilliancy, she magic slapped hand. Hard.

"Only when she walked into a closed room with you. Honestly, princess, I thought you'd know better."

"Heh, he blindsided me. Though I have to say, we have done this before."

"It's you talent for getting yourself into trouble. And now I need to clean your mess."  
"Well, you taught me enough." Emma was truly enjoying the panic stricken face sitting right on top of Roderick's blood spattered coat. "I can do this on my own. Might be messy, it might lack finesse, but…"

"Your Highness!" Roderick moaned in horror.

"There is no faulting your enthusiasm, dear."

Emma raised her finger, magic swirling around it, visibly. She was not entirely sure she was doing it all on her own. When she was about to think that her magic had evolved a great deal, she noticed Regina's self satisfied smirk and the smell of Regina's magic in the air, something sweet and sad. Okay, so she was not doing it alone. But the look on Roderick's face was still priceless as was the way he simply lost control of his bodily functions right there and then. Emma wished briefly she'd had all of this when she was growing and going through high school in old hand me down clothes.

In the end, she pointed her finger simply at her dress and cleaned it up. Better than Tide.

"What, you expected me to kill you so unceremoniously?"

"Get it over with, Princess. Stop toying with him. That's rude." Regina quipped, a glint in her eye.

"Are we really going to kill him?" Emma whispered into Regina's general direction.

"Tempting. So tempting." Emma shrugged. Yes, it was. "Alright then. We play by the Charming rules." Regina snapped her fingers and Roderick was clean as laundered money, standing upright and with no memory of how he now had a crocked nose sitting on his pretty face, no sign of the urine that a mere second ago had stained his pants, nor of the blood in the room. Or of the Evil Queen. There was just a very concerned princess, her very fragile lady in waiting and Roderick's concerned mother walking in through the door now opened.

Trouble was, probably all the messing with his mind had not done him any favours: he looked pathetic with his confused eyes and mouth slightly agape. No, it did not look good, but Rowena, who had magic of her own, had not given them time to make a better job of the cleaning up.

"My lady?"

"Is you son quite well?" Regina could have kissed Emma right there and then, for all that poise and cool headed reaction. "He seems to be… a little fragile."

And there, in a nutshell, was why _the family_ would never come to rule anything: they were, beyond the inbreeding, quite spoiled.

Emma moved out of the room, followed by Regina. Mother and son followed after, the mother holding the son upright, leading him to the crowd, seething with rage.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Rowena knew magic when she smelled it, when she saw it, when she felt it. More importantly, she knew her son. She knew him and his heart and his intentions and she had trusted those to get them one more throne. Seeing her son and her wishes culled with magic? She might not be as powerful as some. But she had bitterness enough and rage enough to cause irreversible damage when pushed just far enough.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina could have, if persuaded, described how the night would play out: the manipulations, the alliances, the marriages, the rebellions. What Regina did not see coming – though she should have- was that a cornered animal has nothing else to lose. Rowena was not without a magic- an ugly, petty magic that smelled of the acrid smell of wet fires- but magic nonetheless. And it seemed she had become more powerful.

"Do not think for one moment that I will sit idly by while you defile my son, _princess_!_"_ In her voice, the word was all insult. Emma turned back as did Regina, not a moment too soon to see the magic gathering in the old woman's hands, to see it hurtling towards Emma.

It was a moment of clarity, that was all. A simple choice. Regina simply slid in front of Emma, getting the brunt of the deadly spell in her chest. She did not feel her body meeting the floor.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Emma's reflex was to catch Regina's falling body in her arms. She fell heavily on the floor, with Regina in a tight hold. She grunted at the impact. Regina's eyes were wide open, the shock of the attack stark in the blackness of them.

"Congratulations, Regina. That is the stupidest thing I've ever seen. Ever." She tried to lift Regina to at least a sitting position, but the woman's body was stiff and uncooperative.

"'Gina?"

_Can you hear me?_

_There's nothing wrong with my ears._

Nothing wrong. They'd done this before.

"I just… can't breathe…"  
"Yeah, okay, we'll just sit here until you catch your breath, okay?"

"'Kay."

"Can you believe it? This is like the mother of all in-laws…" Emma pushed Regina's hair from her face, Bertha's old body morphing slowly back into Regina. "So much for laying down his life for mine, huh?"

The sympathy that seemed ripe in the room for the old woman that had laid her life on the line for the princess quickly waned and disappeared when Regina's contorted face was left in the debris of Bertha.

"It's always a gamble to put your faith in a prince." Regina tried to smile.

"I'll remember that next time."

"No more. Emma. No next time." The wide open eyes slid shut. _It's just a spell, _Emma thought. _Just a tiny, little spell._

"I wish I could help you."

"You are." Her voice was tired and her eyes did not open again. "Just don't leave me, okay? Everybody leaves me."

"I won't."

(There are so many ways to say I love you.)

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The dagger was out of the folds of her dress and at Rowena's throat before Sow could even think clearly. It wasn't Emma. It wasn't Emma. But it could have been. It could so easily have been her had Regina not jumped in the way of that spell.

She felt the dwarves moving like chess pieces, each to a member of the family, each with a dagger drawn, but the sense of safety that should have come with that, curdled with the panic in her chest when Bertha's face melted into Regina's. Her heart stopped when Emma's water-like dress lost all magic and became only the same baby blue mouseline dress she had commissioned for her.

Regina had lost her control of her magic, eyes closed, no breath.

The dagger pressed forgotten into Rowena's throat, a thin sliver of blood beginning to trickle down the white flesh. Widow Lucas took the dagger in her hand and rubbed Snow's back softly, causing her to release the hilt, surrendering Rowena to her guard.

It wasn't Emma. It was the only woman she'd ever had as a mother. The one that had shaped her in every way possible. Snow was quite unaware of the tears she shed that god awful night.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma gasped awake, still sitting in the same cruel chair she had been sitting for the last eternity or two.

The sun was now high in the sky, but she kept the curtains drawn in Regina's room. It could have been her in a bed. Or perhaps, already dead. She could feel the burning smell even now as she had felt in when she held Regina's slumping form when the spell hit her. The spell that had been meant for her.

There had been commotion. Not as much as when a gunshot is fired, Emma thought idly. A spell is silent. Or at least she had heard no sound. There was no great boom, nothing to announce disaster. Just a soft rustle of fabric as Regina slumped to the floor, Emma's arms reaching for her, everything in slow motion like in the films they didn't have in this land.

There had been noise afterwards. Not immediately, not really. But Emma had been vaguely aware of a low keening sound which she not sure who was making until Henry put his hand over her mouth simply because it was too much.

But the thing she would remember, until the day she died, probably even beyond, was the burning smell. It was just so intense, so overwhelming, so acrid that a whole forest could be burning.

Snow fell to her knees next to Emma, her hands uncertain. She had called softly to Regina, she had looked at Emma and her eyes tried to offer comfort as much as she begged some for herself. But it was James that knelt before Regina, James that touched Regina's pulse point and said _get me a fairy or a witch. Anyone._ It was James that picked Regina in his arms and carried her up the tower steps. It was James that saved her, in the end.

Emma could only trail behind him and get into the room with a sick feeling. She could only sit on the bed next to her tutor, her _friend_, her… whatever… and wait with her for the fairies to take their time to make an appearance.

For Emma the only thing left was the waiting: the hope and the despair in dizzying waves, taking turns at torturing her.

When the Blue Fairy flew in through the door, it was with a lazy wing movement, as if nothing was urgent. Emma felt the absurd need to pluck the wings from her back. One. Inch. At. A. Time.

The fairy removed Regina's dress, a touch of magic, eyes closed. Emma looked away. Turns out she was a coward, she did not want to see the damage caused. She hated herself for it, but Regina was the strong one, how could this be that she was the one that needed rescuing now. Was there even any rescue for her?

The fairy's gasp was loud in the silent room. Almost as much as the clicking of her tongue against her teeth and her hands clutched together at her chest that seemed to say _terribly sorry, nothing I can do_. Emma rounded on her.

"You save her. You save her now. I don't care how, you save her now."

"Princess… the mark of a good monarch is to cut their losses when it's proper to do so."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm sure she would not like you talking like that now, Your Highness. After all, she did put in a lot of effort into educating you."

Emma simply lunged at her throat. It would not be the last time. It was a reflex, really. The less articulated she felt, the less reasonable.

"Fix her."

"Your majesty… if she dies now, she will die with the honour of laying down her life for you. She will be redeemed. If she survives… well, she has only the ignominy of having doomed us all with a curse."

Was there anything worse the fairy could have said?

"Get out of here. Get out of my way."  
"Your Majesty… Be reasonable. Rowena is weak witch, but not without power. The weak always seem to cause the most damage. The spell she cast is basic but fatal. She is in terrible pain. Desperately ill. I can end it for her. I can make it all go away. Let's be merciful."

"Out! Get the hell out!"

The door opened. Henry, Snow and James' anxious faces loomed over the scene.

"Blue…" Snow begged, whined really. "There must be something…"  
"Only mercy, Your Highness. There is only mercy."

"What about true love's kiss?" James grabbed her, urgent, by the arm.

"Who would love _her_ that much, You Highness?" Henry moved from Snow's hands across his small chest.

"I do." And he walked in, purpose burning, an aura around him.

He climbed carefully on the bed. "I love you mom. Please, come back to me." He laid a careful kiss on Regina's cheek. And waited.

"My sweet prince." The fairy entreated. "Don't…"  
"Maybe we need to wait a little while."

"Snow… James…"

"True love's kiss can break any curse."

"It is not a curse, Your Highnesses. It is a spell. A mean, nasty one, but a spell, not a curse."

"Please, Emma…" Henry took his mother's hand in his and looked pitifully at Emma. What was he asking from her? She had magic, a little at least, enough magic to turn water into rum or levitate apples. But nothing that could save a life.

No one had the heart to take Henry away until he fell asleep. Then, Emma was alone with Regina and she did try. She kissed Regina. She felt like a creep, using the time when Regina could not defend herself. But she wanted Regina back, she wanted the one that truly understood everything she was. She wanted her friend, her confident, her partner in crime back. She wanted all she stood to lose.

She kissed her the sweetest of kisses.

And nothing happened.

_Kisses never worked that well for me._

What on earth was the surge in her chest though? Why did it hurt so much to lose her?

It was just gratitude. That was all.

Except.

It was a longing for something she had lost, having never had any hope of having it truly. Something she pushed down in her soul. Someone.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The Queen paced the library, James leaning against the wall, arms across his chest. So much like Emma.

"Why did she do that?"

"For the same reason I will always find you."

"No. That cannot be it. There's this contract_" But the words solidified in her throat and not a single one more could come out. She gasped and grasped at her throat. Everything was working fine with her breathing, only the words about the contract would not come out.

She took the contract form the same hiding place behind the map of White Kingdom that had been her hiding place since she had been old enough to have secrets. When she tried handing it to James, her body seized all movement.

"I don't need to read it, Snow. I know what I know."

"We signed_" This time her throat closed in on her, stopping her from breathing.

"It was not the contract, Snow. I know you want to believe it. It might be easier for you to believe the contract forced her to do it. But you know better." He put the contract down and took her by the arms. "It was not the contract, she was not forced. Regina made a choice. You might not want to see it, Snow, but Regina _chose_."

Snow would cling to anything that allowed her to believe that her stepmother was still the same person that reduced a realm of existence to a backwater town in the middle of nowhere, Maine. She would cling to anything that allowed her to believe that what had been happening right under her nose was not possible for the incapability of one of the parties.

But James, well, he was a shepherd. He still had not forgotten to look at his flock and study them, to _know_ them. And he may now be a king and he may have been lost in another realm for decades with no memory of what he was, but there was one thing he knew and that had been passed down from his mother: there are so many ways to say _I love you_.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma opened the curtains to the night. The moon was bright and it reflected off the frozen snow on the ground and trees. She sat cross legged on the floor where a beam of moonlight shone cold white. With her eyes wide open, she concentrated on the outcome. She evened her breathing and tried to _see _it. She tried to see Regina getting up and throwing some snark around. She tried to see Regina _breathing_ and _smiling_.

There was no movement. Regina remained in her world of pain. Alone. She should have known better than to trust magic.

(There are so many ways to say I love you)

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The council members all but barged into the council room. There would be no meeting over a meal with stories interspaced with decisions. There was a fierce purpose in them. From Grumpy to Granny, there was a single heartbeat. And it shouted revenge.

"They must be made an example of, Your Highness." Granny put it diplomatically. One thing she knew about family is that you're allowed to hate your own, but that is a privilege that does not extend to others.

Grumpy was not as diplomatic. "Throw the lying sacks to the trolls."  
There was blood lust in the council. And that blood lust was now justified in principle: the _family_ attacked the first in line to the throne. In any kingdom that was an offense punishable with death.

"The attack came from Rowena. We cannot attack them without great loss. They are powerful. Armed. We are still rebuilding." Jiminy Cricket was always a voice of reason. Even if it did come across to some- mostly Grumpy- as if the cricket had a yellow strip painted right down his back.

"And I say why sit here and wait for one of them to do it again? Why should we live in fear?" Grumpy's colour was rising to his receding hairline. "I say get rid of the lot. Exile, banish, curse them. Preferably, exterminate them . I hear the princess has learnt a few tricks of her own. That should keep some bases covered. This time it was the witch. Who's to say that next time it's not one of us?"

Voices rose and there was not much debate, just a lot of righteous anger. The _family _was to be banished from this and their own kingdoms. Dirty blood cannot rule. Their army dismantled, their crown stripped, their allies warmed. The White Kingdom was small but they had the magic of the fairies on their side. They would not live in fear.

Fists pumped the air in victory like they do when decisions are made but their consequences not fully understood.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Sitting by Regina, it was difficult for Emma to remember a time she had felt more alone and helpless. And there had been many before.

There were periods of calm and times where Regina's face would contort in silent agony, her eyes screwed shut. Emma sat on bed and watched for every single one of those moments. She didn't have magic enough to lift the spell. She didn't have magic enough to cure whatever it was that the spell had caused. But she had the little magic stuff, the practical magic - garden spells, Regina called them. She laid her hand on Regina's clenched fist and pushed the pain away, trying to replicate the way Regina had soothed her aching feet and the pain from the many tea burns.

And when the fever started, she had cold cloths to sooth it with.

It took courage but she lifted the sheet from Regina's body, trying hard not to be too scared by the ruin left in the wake of the spell: somewhere between a deep burn, boils and dark grey lines radiating from the point of impact at the centre of Regina's midriff. She wished she hadn't looked. She wished there was a doctor somewhere and medicines and hospitals that she could carry Regina to. That she could do. This? She was in way over her head. And yet, the option was not really an option at all.

She covered the wound with the sheet again. She could think better if she wasn't so terrified.

Baby steps. She was only baby steps into magic and this was some serious damage. _Open your eyes_. There was no point in closing her eyes or covering the wound. It was not going away just because she couldn't see it. So the first thing was to open her eyes and just… grow up. To give herself time, she washed her hands, cooling them. Then she concentrated on each of the injuries, one at a time, not letting the whole terrify her.

She broke down what needed doing: the boils that looked so much like the ones on her mouth, the burn, heavens, the deep, deep charring of that burn. The gray webbing, whatever that was. She started with the boils. They seemed more familiar, less terrifying, more like something she could actually handle.

She worked her way in, starting at the boils at the edge. She touched the first of the boils and shot all her energy, all her strength through her finger. All her goodness into wellness.

It took a little while, but the boil shrunk slowly, softly, until it left nothing behind but the burn and the gray web of lines. It left Emma breathless, tired. At the edge of exhaustion. But it was gone. It made no great difference that one boil out of so many horrible things was gone, but it was gone. And Regina sighed as if she could feel a difference.

Fortified by that one fractal success, Emma tried again, the next boil, right next to the one that was gone. All her energy, all her strength into that one boil. It took marginally less time, and the boil was gone. Regina's face relaxed. And then she touched one more and one more. It felt a lot like emptying a lake with a thimble.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma woke up because there was someone in the room and her first instinct was to reach for a gun or a sword that her fingers just did not seem to find.

"The council voted to have them all banished."  
Emma focused slowly on the queen. "What does that mean?"

"Means that they will never set foot in this Kingdom. They will be stripped of their own crown."

"Does it mean that we will be safe?"

"Yes." Snow's inflection was a shrill unconvincing affirmation belying a lie.  
"You're lying."

Snow sat on the bed next to Emma, still in her baby blue dress, a crumpled, ripe mess . "Storybrooke is a long way away, Emma." She simply nodded. Her hand touched Regina's foot so close to her and it felt a lot like comfort. "I can't promise you anything but this Emma: We've tried their way. Now, we do it our way: they come at us again and there will be war."

Maybe if this conversation had happened two days ago, Emma would have been excited. Now she just did not care enough. "Sure."  
"Go wash, Emma. I'll stay here."  
"I don't_"  
"You smell, Emma. Go wash. Come back clean."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow sat closer to Regina. Out of impulse, she took a limp hand in hers. "This was not in the contract, Regina. You'll never know how thankful I am. I'm not sure I'd be able to lose her twice. And I wish there was something more that I could do."

The hand in hers was fever hot. Carefully, Snow stood and brought a bowl of fresh water. One of the most difficult things was knowing that there was more to life, more to knowledge and science than simply wet cloths on feverish foreheads. That it was just out of reach.

Carefully, she sunk a cloth in the cool water, wrung it out and placed it carefully in Regina's forehead.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Mothering was always a negotiation with them both. And this time Emma was just tired enough to do as she was told. When she returned, she felt more alert, more capable. More… _magic._

It took Emma a painfully long day, but every single one of the boils disappeared as if they had never been. The burn and the gray webbing remained. The fever too. Regina was still unconscious.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

James came the next morning, Henry clinging to him. He brought fruit and bread and sent Emma to wash. It seemed to him that Emma could take care of only one person at a time. And now her attention was focused on Regina alone. So it fell to him and Snow to watch out for her.

Emma left the room and James approached the bed and sat next to it.

"There will always be things that I'm not quite sure I can let go of. That apple was… well… Not now, anyway. But you did this. And I think I know why. Even if you don't. So try not to ruin everything, will you? Just hang in there. Emma will figure it out… the spell, I mean. And the rest too. The only thing you need to do is trust her."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She hated baths. Baths are far too quiet and slow. Showers were better. Showers were for doing people. She was a doing person. But indoor plumbing was a pipe dream at best in this place. Thoughts are like cherries to, not just words. The shower thought touched on the hot water thought and that one on the tea thought and that one on the hot burn of the tea. And on how Regina had simply touched her hand and the burn had cooled down, degree by degree until the skin was cool again. Until the layers of flesh were freed from the cramping and the crippling pain of the heat seeping down through it. Until the layers of flesh regenerated and healed.

She held on to the thought carefully so has not to lose it but moved swiftly, putting on clothes over damp skin and excusing James and Henry from the room.

She pulled the sheet down. This was not a tea burn. But maybe, just maybe, on little thing at a time, she could get there. She evened out her breath and without touching the massacred skin, cooled it starting from the outer layers, going deeper and deeper. She held her magic there for as long as she dared until she felt she might just pass out. When she opened her eyes, there was no visible result, nothing she could say _oh, well, that looks slightly better_. It didn't and it was disappointing and maybe she was just as useless at this as at everything else in her life.

And then she looked up and Regina's brown eyes were opening, slowly, painfully against the light of the day. Emma jumped to close the curtains, to ease the light from Regina's tired eyes.

"Emma?" There was a little breathless panic. Emma rushed back.

"I'm here. What can I do, Regina? What can I do?"

"I just wanted to be sure…" And her voice faded, her eyes closed again and all hope Emma had had for those few brief seconds of asking her tutor what to do, how to help her, faded as well.

Emma could think of nothing else but to do it again. To raise her hand over the burn and _heal_ it, cooling it from the outer to the inner layers, a fraction of a shade at a time.

She stopped when Regina awoke again, her lips chapped and cracked from the fever. Emma floated an apple and put all her fears, all her frustration into pressing it with her magic as she would have with her hands - had they not both been holding Regina up. She brought the apple to Regina's lips and let the juice fall softly from the apple into her mouth.

Emma considered it a small miracle when a tongue darted out and licked the juice droplets.

When there was little left of the apple but the dregs, Regina slumped against Emma's chest behind her. "Show off."

Emma would deny it if asked, but there were tears of relief.

"Hey, you told me not to do things half-assed." Regina simply closed her eyes. "Okay, okay, you might not have used that exact expression, but it meant the same, right?" Her only reply was a half smile. "Rest now."

She should put Regina down in bed. She should lay her down and let her rest. Instead , she just held on for a little while longer.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I think you're the poster girl for _an apple a day keeps the doctor away_, Regina. Look at you, so much better." Emma chatted on, despite the fact that Regina was unconscious. She found that she could do this, she could spend hours concentrating all her energy on doing what little she could to make it better. And as the hours passed, that burn improved, healing. The high colour of it actually went a few shades down and Emma dared to hope. The fever just wouldn't give but how was she to know if that was normal or not? Maybe it was.

Emma collapsed on her side, facing Regina, alert to the smallest of sounds.

(There are so many ways to say I love you)

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

There was very little of her left. Very little left to feel with, very little to be felt. Sometimes she was _in_ and there was pain, others she wasn't anything at all.

She craved the moments she was in, clung to them, tooth and nail. Not because the pain meant she was alive (it comes a point you just don't care and enough is enough) but because she was not alone.

It was only a presence, at first, and it could have been anyone, really. But then that presence became Emma. Emma's hands, Emma's magic with its young scent. It smelled a lot like Henry when he was a baby. It was a comforting scent and then it was a comforting warmth.

And then she was out again.

.

.

She awoke to the absence of pain, how strange was that? Pain had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. And there was that baby scent of Emma's new magic and that magic radiated through her, deepening through her flesh, relieving the tightness in her body.

"Emma?" There was a little breathless panic.

"I'm here. What can I do, Regina? What can I do?"

"I just wanted to be sure…"

If only she could stay _in._

_._

_._

It was the scent of apples and magic that brought her back. And then something cool and crisp dropped on her lips and it was only then that they felt like they belonged to her-a burning, dry, wasteland. The crisp coolness was sweet, tempting. It tasted a lot like magic too. Tasted like life. Emma chatted as if they'd been sitting for high tea. She would have cried if she'd had the tears: behind her, Emma held her up and _cared_ for her. About her.

Emma said with acts of kindness what Regina had always craved hearing.

(There are so many ways to say I love you)

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

_Magic is like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it becomes._ That was probably true. By the end of the fourth day, the bull's-eye of the spell was free of boils and the burn that had macerated it was almost gone, hours and hours of Emma's tentative magic slowly regenerating the skin and the tissue under it.

"Emma?"

"I'm here. I'm right here. What do you need?" And her hand would come, light, to brush hair off her face to cool the fever that simply would not go away.

"I just wanted to be sure…"

"I won't go anywhere."

"Don't leave me…"

"I won't."  
And she didn't.

(There are so many ways to say I love you.)

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The grey webbing had to be poison. The burn was gone and so were the boils. But the grey webbing, it seemed to be tattooed on that skin.

Emma simply did not know what to do about poisons, let alone magic poisons. What she knew, she knew from a few episodes of the survival shows on Discovery. And that was mostly _get to the nearest hospital STAT. _ There were no hospitals in the Enchanted Forest. There were no doctors, only witches and princes turned frogs. _Frogs. Scratch that- toads. Poisonous toads._ All poisons were different. But she had nothing else.

She rooted through her bedroom and then Regina's until she found a pot of the foul smelling unguent. Unguent. Regina knew words like that. They suited her and slid off her tongue and Emma remembered them easily, even if she would, oftentimes, make a deliberate mess of them.

The patch of skin was the size of her splayed hand. Emma applied the cream with something akin to faith: this would work. And as far as spells went, mumbling under her breath _work, work, work_ might not be the most effective- or even a fully working- one, but it was all she had. And she had grown up being a _make do_ kind of girl. She had to make do with a urine smelling, toad poison rescue unguent, faith and her insipient magic.

She had faced far more with a lot less on her.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

_The forest was thick green and she was alone. She was ever alone. All around her, she heard frogs croaking. She'd not known of frogs to roam forest ground. Frogs liked water, so what were they doing this far into the green? As she walked painfully through the thick, thorny undergrowth, more and more frogs croaked, their calling making her just so nervous. She looked around her trying to understand the season. It was cold at times and burning hot at others and she just could not figure out whether it was winter or summer or something in between. But frogs croak to attract mates and they just would not stop, croaking and croaking up a path in the steep forest ground. The more she walked, the more frogs lined the path opened in the thorny undergrowth. Their numbers increased as she walked and in a few steps, the noise was overwhelming and she could not take a step without clearing the way of slimy bodies. When the trees sparced and the dark canopy gave way to a wintery sky, the path ahead was uphill. But from her advantage point all she could see was a princess sitting atop the steep hill, frogs lining the way, bee-lining their humping movement towards the princess, queuing patiently, waiting to be kissed._

_Regina joined the waiting throng._

Regina came awake, relief flooding her body. "Emma?" Was that her voice, croaked and raspy?

Her princess lay by her side, clay pot firmly in her clasped hand. In the candle light, the dark shadows under her eyes were stark, pitiful.

As awareness improved, Regina felt pain in her chest, a tightness that told her something was not right. With a superior effort, she lifted the sheet that covered her and with no garments to remove, the damage to her body was clear. She dropped the sheet and her hand fell to her side.

Rowena's spell. The gray webbing running under her skin could be nothing else but poison. Rowena's poison. And she thought she had issues with bitterness. Emma's hand clutched around the pot, the smell of urine ripe in the air, disguising the smell of death raising from her flesh

_My poor Emma. It's poison. _Regina almost smiled as she thought _you can try all you want._ There was a certain peace that came with knowing finally what was to become of her. But at least she would not die alone if the determined expression on Emma's sleeping face was some indication.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It was a pattern. And if no other comfort could be had, the fact that there was still a pattern to be had was as good as it got. Regina was still breathing. She still awoke in fits of fever, Emma's name on her lips, and when Emma asked her if there was something she could do, it was always the same reply: _I just wanted to be sure_. Emma wondered what Regina wanted to be sure of. She wondered why her name in Regina's mouth did such strange things to the pit of her stomach. And Regina was still alive. According to the Blue Fairy, she was so desperately ill that putting her out of her misery (like you would a dog or a horse) was such a good goddamned idea. There were times she would have believed it. During those hours in the darkness of the room, there were times, that yes, she would have done it had Regina asked, through the hurt in her face though she would utter no sound.

But the morning would come and Snow or James would bring her food and send her for a bath and she would come back stronger, less capable of giving in if she had been asked _that_.

It was a pattern of hours, of dark and light. And as far as patterns went, though she was not big on them, this was as good as almost a comfort.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

_The forest was familiar even if just a blur of thick mossy trees, their canopy closing off the light. Frogs seemed to simply faze into existence, now an empty space, then a slimy, squelchy body. And still she would follow the thick of the cold blooded bodies and find a princess sitting atop a hill, frogs converging to her as if that had been written in their genes._

_As she walked, she pushed them out of her way, her feet struggling for solid ground. Stepping on them was not an option. She made it half way up the ever steeper hill until she understood what the frogs were marching for: a kiss. All of this for a kiss. They clambered one over the other, an exercise in survival, trying to reach the princess. _

_She sped up her pace and a frog that marched at her side regarded her with a grin in his face and muttered_ Mind your manners and wait your turn. Just like the rest of us._ Unnerved, she ignored the frog and walked faster, simply pushing frogs away with her booted feet, indignation flaring up in her trail. _

_As she got closer, she realised the princess was kissing the frogs, taking them in her hands, kissing their lipless mouths, waiting for a second and then sending them into a line of frogs marching away from her, despondent, angry looks in their green faces._

_But she was short of breath and her chest hurt. She slowed down, looking closer at her journey companions only to realise they were not frogs but toads. Poisonous toads. And when she looked up, Emma was the princess and her mouth was an open wound of boils, old and new. _

"_Nooooooooooooooo!"_

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma was curled up on her side. A light sleeper at the best of times (you do not go through the foster system without developing some survival techniques) she was now barely closing her burning eyes.

Regina did not scream. Her mouth was open in that way, the panic was there and she was sitting in bed, the sheet pooling at her waist, the dark webbed skin stark in the daylight barely filtering through the closed curtains. Not a sound. Not a whimper. But the movement was enough to have Emma up and reaching for her. Mindful of frightening her further, Emma called out her name softly.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

She would have sworn that Regina was not really seeing her, but unerringly, Regina's hand came to her mouth where she'd had the boils from her mishap with the toads.

Regina's thumb smoothed over the skin. "You don't need to kiss them anymore. I'm here now."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

_It was as if there were two Emmas: the one with the toads in her arms and her broken skin and the other with tired eyes and a soft name in her mouth. The Emma kissing toads won out, swimming into the foreground. Regina's hand touched her blistered lips and vowed _You don't need to kiss them anymore. I'm here now._ But this sad Emma simply took her in her hands, kissed her, waited for a second and put her down like all the other toads, one more blister in her mouth. _

"_What makes you think you're so special, huh?" A toad asked. _

"_I…"_

"_If you did" The toad interjected, rebuking the thought that was only half formed in her mind, "you'd leave her to find one that can actually be a prince. Looks like she's been kissing toads long enough."  
"I'm not a toad."  
"No?"_

_When Regina looked at herself, there was nothing but green, soft body and poisonous drool dripping from her lipless mouth._

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She could kill for a Tylenol. Honest to god murder. Her head, her back, her arms, she was one tight knot of muscular pain. She had lost track of the days. But there was a routine to be had, a routine that was, perhaps, as good as it gets. She went for her bath when James, this time around, came into the room and sent her away. She washed the grunge of the days and the pain of the hours and dressed in clean, fresh clothes. She walked back into the room and James was having a muted, one sided conversation with Regina's unresponsive form.

"I'll tell you what: you get up, get better and we'll call it even, okay? This is not… this is not okay. This is not what I want for her, this room all the time. And I'm pretty sure- I'm not blind, Regina- that you don't want it either. And I'm not sure that there's much more mileage in this. There is only so much a body can take. And I'm scared for my daughter. So hear this: get better and we'll call it even."

Emma had spent over a year now trying to get used to having a _dad_ and a _mom. _ It seemed that sometimes she failed at it still.

"Dad."

As if caught in some misdeed, James' head snapped up, a smile quickly arranged over his handsome face.

"Hey bab_" He stopped himself.  
"It's alright, you can say it."

"Hey, baby girl." James smiled. There were things that he wanted to say all the time but he had to pace himself, because with Emma nothing was a sprint, everything was a marathon.

"She's doing better, you know?" James nodded. He hoped to all that was holy that it was true. "She's almost better."

"I know. Soon. Any time now."

But they both knew he did not quite believe it, no matter how much Emma was his savior too.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma tried to imagine a breakthrough. Surely there had to be one. A moment of enlightenment, an epiphany, anything. The music would swell up and there would be a close up and something totally brilliant would happen or a miracle with shining stars or angels or something like that and Regina would open her eyes and be better and then be well and that would be it, happy ever after.

But the truth was all that Emma knew. No miracles, no music, no close ups. Just urine smelling toad unguent. Life's a bitch and then you die.

They were just putting up a fight better than most.

_Eventually_. She had _eventually_. It had come after the _any moment now_ and after the _soon_. Now it was _eventually_. Regina would wake up _eventually_.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

And then, _eventually_ came one sunny morning. Emma opened the curtains and let the sun in. The fever of the night subsided and it seemed to her that the grey webbing was slightly less stark. And then Regina woke up. She took a little water, and then some apple juice. She leaned against her pillow less like she was fading and more like she was really there.

It seemed, time healed.

She stayed awake for short periods in the beginning, progressively longer as they the days moved on.

Every once in a while, she still woke up calling for Emma.

"I'm here. I'm right here. What can I do?"

The answer was always the same, though it seemed, Regina was not really aware of it. "I just wanted to be sure."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Fairy tales are annoying in their perfection. Of course, you wouldn't really know that if you were a character in one, but when you've lived through Storybrooke, when you've know life outside, you'll know it. What story teller ever tells you that after sleeping a thousand years you'll smell? Or that if you go into a gingerbread house you get sticky? Or that after you've been sick you have no strength in your limbs to even wash your body of the sickness smell?

Regina wanted to feel her skin again, instead of the layers of feverish sweat dried on it and toad unguent. She wanted to freshen up her breath, to brush her hair. Just because it would make her feel less like a dreg and a little more human. But her legs and her arms would not hold her up.

She supposed she could have found it humiliating when Snow marched into the room all cheer and vitality and, with Emma, picked her up from the bed and took her to a tub of soapy warm water. It was fortunate. So very fortunate. "Thank you." Snow whispered while she washed her hair. "Thank you," when she helped carry her again to a bed just made fresh with lavender scented linen.

"What you've done… Regina, there will never be a way to repay you."

No, she supposed not. But only because there are things that are not meant to be.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma had her own grooming session and then simply lay down next to Regina. She was hoping to find something important, something meaningful to say. But when she needed them the most, words always failed her.

She snuggled into Regina's side and draped her arm carefully over her hip, mindful of the ever present gray webbing. And when a hand came up and caressed her blond curls, Emma quite unapologetically broke down, ever so politely, and cried her eyes out.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

When her heart was empty of the fear and the grief and the sheer nerves of having been on her own with the responsibility subsided, there was nothing left to do but to… begin.

Her hand gripped Regina's emaciated hip and held on tight to the comfort that hip offered. A hand soothed her hair, running soft fingers down the length of it, and it was so much as if she was being summoned, called back, except there were not words.

Emma relinquished the comfort of that bony hip and looked up, stopped for a second and, because there was light through the windows, that dark gaze was the best beginning she could ever fathom. She rolled onto her elbow and made her way up, slowly, up the landscape of the body that lay next to hers. Then there was only a kiss. No syntax to it. Just the way her mouth felt over Regina's. Just the way Regina's breath hitched that tiny little bit that says_ more_. There was just the way her mouth was _wet_ and _sweet_ and _soft_ and _pliant. _There was only the way Emma's blood roared in approval in her ears.

She would live her life all over again if it meant earning this kiss again.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Of course Regina saw it coming, that kiss. She wanted it. You don't get to live so many years without knowing the language of bodies, but, like with so many things with Emma Swan, what she was not prepared for was the way it stole her breath or the way everything was illuminated and fresh.

She wanted Emma to drag her hands across her skin. It didn't matter where. Her arms, her stomach, her hips, her legs, her feet, her face. It really didn't matter, so long as she could just feel, as long as she could feel the way everything filled up, as if it had been an empty bag and now there were secrets and treasures to keep.

Emma's hand cupped the side of her face and that was it.

She was all used up but not done with life after all.

"I missed you." Emma whispered into her mouth. "Thank you for coming back."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The thing to remember was Regina's fragility. The blood sang in her veins and it begged her to celebrate. But there was that paper thin skin and the poison that still stained it, the way Regina's breath wheezed and the way she could not sit on her own.

Emma pulled back, but there was no mistake: Regina wanted more. It was a kiss that made them both want more. And that was something that Emma acknowledged with a sigh of relief. It was a first for her.

It was a first kiss, warm, vulnerable. But it was also a promise: I'm coming back for much, much more.

"Can you believe it? This was a just a first try!"  
**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Not much would make Regina laugh. Except perhaps Emma's cockiness. She was prone to taking things too seriously and Emma was a reality check at every turn of phrase. So she laughed even if it took still so much energy and she couldn't keep it up for as long as it was funny. She just let her hand fall into Emma's and slept.

No dreams, this time around.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Emma chatted as she magically pressed an apple into juice, dripping it right into Regina's waiting mouth. There were easier ways to do this, but they lacked the flair and the drama that she knew would make Regina smile. The juice dripped slowly into the open mouth until there were only the dregs of the apple. She told Regina pointless things. Like how the first time she saw her in that drive way she had a feeling her life had been _knocked on its ass_. She told her about the exercise in mortification at the town hall meeting during the whole playground debacle. And about the way she usually took just a little longer at Granny's when Regina picked up her to go coffee. Of her mishaps with ogres when they had first arrived. And how she missed coffee and popcorn. Things like that.

She told her about the winter coming to an early spring, about Henry and his lessons and how the kid was a natural at everything. She demonstrated her progress in what she called _confetti magic_: the flowers that materialised in Regina's hands, and the chocolates that Regina still wouldn't eat. And that Emma promptly stuffed into her mouth to prove they were edible. She levitated small objects that performed puppetry shows while Emma made squeaky voices that only occasionally mimicked the films she stole her stories from.

All it took was time. Didn't really matter if it would be _soon_ or _eventually._

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

There had never been a time where Regina had felt _cared for_ or _cherished. _This took some getting used to, this not being at odds with every single thing, especially with herself, the constant struggle between who her heart wanted to be and who she needed to be to survive. It took a while to stop clutching at the straws of happiness, to stop digging her nails in any hint of happiness, even if it was the small pleasure of making someone squirm in their skin as much as she squirmed in hers. It had been a lifelong winter without a single Christmas. There had been no words of comfort or encouragement. There had been only time. But Emma? Emma's heart was a place where their differences were engaged and lived with, redemption and honesty, possibility and hope. It was so unlike all others she knew, where in order to be loved you had to be something else. That was domination. In Emma's heart there was only absolution.

It felt ridiculously good.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma had not gone back to sleeping in her room. She liked turning on her side and just make sure everything was still okay. She liked reaching out and having a body there she could pull into hers and snuggle because the mornings were cold. And she liked how Regina would, sometimes, in the middle of the night, just call her name softly and be soothed by the _I'm here_. "I just wanted to be sure." was always the answer.

And then in the mornings they would go through their grooming and feeding routine. Together. Which was new for both of them. And it felt kind of strange at first and then like something to be looked forward to. They were moving ass backwards on this, Emma thought. But maybe it was not such a bad thing after all.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma was juggling apples from the basket that Henry brought every morning. She did that because while she could claim that it exercised her magic and helped her improve control- which was true – it never failed to entertain Regina. There was always the possibility of things going wrong (which they did): there were other objects that joined the moving apples or apples that shot off course and hit the darnest things like window panes (that shattered in remarkably small shards) or candles that set small rugs on fire. It was value for money entertainment.

Emma had five apples in the air, lining each of them in a straight little row, then dancing little circles. And then Regina leaned into Emma's shoulder, ostensively to steady her hands. She knew what effect she would cause in Emma. She had practiced it again and again. And maybe it was perverse. Maybe it was her evil side, but she liked knowing that Emma was not immune. She liked knowing that she was not alone.

Emma lost control of her apples. Instead of dropping them on the floor, they simply went awry, spinning faster and faster and faster with Emma's heart beat.

Regina could tell the effect of her touch on Emma. It was there, black in white- or apple darting through the air and smashing against a wall. It was a good thing they were in bed (how had she allowed this habit?) because her legs were shaking and there was heat that began at the pit of her stomach and pooled lower and lower. "Emma." Her heart was beating in her throat, in her ears. In her sex. Emma must have heard the need, because the already erratic heartbeat shot and all the apples simply flew into walls dropping with magnified thumps.

"Gina, I…"

Regina wanted to ask to be touched, but the not asking, well, that was a habit of a lifetime, difficult to break. She took Emma's hand pulled it to her face, a very silent _please_. It didn't matter how much she wanted to voice it, it just didn't come. But Emma knew her. By heart. On her side, she simply took Regina's mouth. The lips, the tongue, the teeth. Emma kissed her fiercely with everything and in everything she could find. As if she had been waiting for this for so very long.

Regina tilted her body sideways towards Emma, just slightly, but that was her- opening herself up. And this was what Emma as so good at doing, she took hints. She read people and she didn't need it spelt out to her. Emma slid into that open body and she fit it in it. Regina's leg draped over Emma's hip, cradling her, inviting her.

Emma had only to look up. Regina's mouth was right there, lips parted, anxious. Their mouths met, open and greedy, first just the lips, then the tongues, enthusiastically. Regina's hands cradled Emma's head effectively not leaving Emma space to break the kiss. She wanted this. She was desperate for Emma's touch anticipating how it would feel to be taken, to take, to let herself belong and be happy. Emma relented in her determination.

"Gina… the…" And Emma put her hand on Regina's convalescing chest. "I'm afraid of hurting you."  
"Emma… I need to feel you." And that was one of the most difficult things to say, that asking for what she needed. And then it was not.  
Emma rolled onto Regina, supporting her weight on her hands, her body reacting to Regina's plea, hips jutting forward, nipples hardening, skin heating, breath catching.

A flick of Regina's wrist and her clothes vanished, leaving her bare, skin against Regina's white sleeping shift.

Supporting herself on her elbows, Emma indulged her body in the proximity of Regina's. She slid up for another kiss, dragging her heated skin against the white cloth of the loose shift, cradled between Regina's thighs. In that moment she knew there would be no stopping this. She knew exactly what she wanted to do: she wanted to remove the shift and kiss her way down Regina's body and then just gorge on what she was sure was Regina's honey like taste. Maybe salt water taffy. No one guards herself so much if she is not worth it. She just had to pace herself. Somewhere in her own sex there was a pull forward, a pull to seek out contact and touch, skin on skin. That pull was intense and distracting to the point of pain.

It was the determination to do this right that allowed her to not touch herself, not to bring herself relief- the determination to get to know Regina like that, to see for herself how Regina reacted, what she liked, how low she would growl, how high her pitch would be when she screamed out her name. Because she would.

Regina took Emma's hand in hers and brought it to her breast, not much persuasion needed, to get Emma to knead it, to rub her palm over the erect nipple, to suck it through the white cloth. It left a wet, transparent spot that revealed the nub underneath, making Emma's body react that much harder.

Emma leaned on her elbow and used her free hand to pull at the laces on the front of the shift, opening it reverently . The laces gave way, white against golden skin and Emma took the already wet nipple between gentle teeth, sucking it into her mouth, teasing a moan out of Regina that was something between pleasure and pain.

Regina's fingers were on Emma's hair, holding on, just holding on. Always a surprise, Emma. Everything with Emma. She could not quite remember ever feeling such a need, so unlike her, because she did not let herself need. When sex is power, you don't need, you command. But with Emma, she had surrendered at the very first touch.

How strange.

Regina opened her eyes and looked down, Emma's golden head on her breast, a hand under her back pushing her up into her mouth. And then the pressure on her back eased and Emma pushed onto her knees. She sat there, admiring her mouth's work, Regina's breasts pert from the attention, free in morning sun, glistening with Emma's saliva. Regina felt sexy and wanton. Which was another first. She knew, from a very young age she was desirable. She used it. Invested in it. But she had never reflected on her own want, on her own desire or pleasure. But then Emma pulled her to her body and slowly pushed the shift down her shoulders, exposing the grey webbing left by the poison.

Emma sucked in a lungful of air. It amazed her how far they had come, how bad it had been. How close of a call it had been. She couldn't stop looking, studying it, what it meant: the loss and the choice.

But Regina only saw the wide eyed stare and when she looked down at herself, she saw the same thing Emma must have seen: an ugly mark, the poison that ran under her skin. The toad poison that would break Emma's mouth again.

She pulled the shift up and closed it around her shoulders, her heart breaking.

"Emma, you don't have to…"

"I almost…"

Regina's fingers tightened around the shift, she hugged herself closed out of Emma's voice and half confession of regret.

"I almost lost you, didn't I?"

Always the surprise, Emma. Often, painfully good surprises. Patiently, Emma took Regina's fingers in her hand, releasing the shift, kissing each of her knuckles, her tenderness unclenching them. "I was so scared, because I had no clue what I was doing, only that it was not an option, you know?" She pushed the shift down again, kissed Regina's bare shoulders. "All I knew was that I should have learnt more." She punctuated each of her sentences with kisses down Regina's body. "Should have asked more." She kissed the dip of Regina's neck, her breast bone. "Paid more attention." And reached the marked skin, still tender, still redder than the rest of Regina's body. "That I should have killed that bitch on the spot."

Regina recoiled at the feel of Emma's lips on that skin. It was a weakness and she did not reveal her weaknesses. She was ashamed of it. But Emma kissed every inch of it and her fingers traced every single line. "It proves something. It proves something to me. And you are beautiful. Even more so now." Emma's mouth descended slowly with each kiss and her chin settled on Regina's public bone, the pressure doing unspeakable things to Regina. She was beautiful to Emma. She was beautiful.

Emma's chin rubbed over the pubic bone, short lazy circles waiting for Regina's signal. Regina's hands unclenched and her hips jutted up, seeking more contact, more pressure, more friction. It was all that Emma needed. Her tongue traced a wet trail down Regina's labia, sweet and salty and soft and then stopped at her clit, devoting to it all her attention, everything around them gone, pressing, rubbing the flat of her tongue on it, suckling, biting, kissing, teasing the first mewling release out of Regina.

Regina grabbed Emma's hand, holding on for dear life, a tether to reality.

"Emma…"

"I'm here. I'm right here." Emma squeezed Regina's fingers, kissing their tips.

"I just wanted to be sure…"

Emma's reply was to push herself up, climb up Regina's heated body and press a kiss, a demanding kiss that was all openness, invading tongue, reassurance.

Regina's legs closed around Emma's hips, an instinct reaction, surprising in its strength especially because Regina was quite sure that her legs would not sustain her.

"Gina…" Emma pleaded because she was not quite finished, she was not done sampling Regina's body, she was not done smelling and touching and tasting; she wanted to taste more and more of Regina's pleasure and she wanted to do more and the way Regina's body was pressed against hers, the way her clit was pressed against Regina's, well, there was not going to be much time for anything else, was there, not with the way her body was doing things without her permission, like that rocking motion, that was just bringing her closer and closer, her breath hitching and catching. She opened her eyes and Regina's face was just the most beautiful thing she had had ever seen, her eyes wide open, her lips parted, her gaze intent on Emma.

Emma opened Regina further to her, pushing her thigh up with her arm and shoulder. Regina raised her head from the pillow to claim a kiss and the way her lower body contracted to achieve that increased the pressure against Emma.

It was unstoppable. Emma's core simple spasmmed and exploded outwards, wetness flooding out of her, as they kissed.

Regina came as a consequence: of the kiss, of the wetness flowing out of Emma into her. Of the way Emma released her name with the longest aaaahhh at the end of it, almost a sob.

Emma sunk her face into the crook of Regina's neck, supporting her weight on her arms. The tenderness of the gesture did not escape Regina, even in her blissful state. _My Emma. _

There were things waiting to be said. Things as insistent as that orgasm had been. Things she did not know how to voice, because words, they just betray you. The most important things are the most difficult to say.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Always mindful of that fragility, Emma rolled onto her back bringing Regina with her, cradling her in her arms. She dotted soft kisses on the sweaty temple and smoothed the damp dark hair down Regina's back. She loved the smell in the air, of sweat and of sex and apples smashed against the walls and floor.

"Sleep now, Regina."

"I've been sleeping too long, lately." Truth was, she didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to miss a single second.

"We have time. Sleep. I'll take care of you."

Regina's eyes watered. Yes, she knew that Emma would take care of her. She believed that with all her heart.

It was just that… well, with the family away, now that Emma was safe, how much more time would they have?

Emma's fingers ran down the sweaty length of her hair, down her damp skin and pulled the covers over their joint bodies. Sleep claimed her almost instantly.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma woke up and spared a glance at Regina's sleeping form. Damn, she could wake up like this every morning from now on. There was in fact, no need to wake up any other way. There was no flight instinct, no need to hit the floor running. There was a quietness of the heart, as if it belonged here. It was the strangest thing.

She put on her clothes and made her way to the kitchens because she wanted to get breakfast. She wanted to make breakfast for Regina. Hell, she wanted to raise her own chickens and milk her own cows and bake her own bread just so that she could feed her. She wanted to bring her breakfast in bed, not like to a sick person, but like a lover does, flowers and the newspaper, coffee and chocolate cake for breakfast.

She had to settle for scrambled eggs (no way that omelet was coming out of the pan in one piece) and no, there was no newspaper (no Enchanted Forest Daily was delivered to the steps of the castle) and coffee was nothing but a vague memory. Still, she packed a tray with juice and fruit and warm buttered bread and, of course, flowers from the garden.

On her way up, she considered waking up Henry just so that she could bring Regina a _family_ for breakfast as well, but she reconsidered. She was playing good cards and she might well get lucky again and she felt just selfish enough to want that.

As she moved through the corridor, she vaguely sang a shapeless tune, just because she was happy. Just because this could well be her happily ever after. She was at the epicenter of the concept, might as well believe she could have one. Even if the thought had never occurred to her before.

When she opened the door to the chamber, the curtains were still closed but the bed was empty, the covers pulled up, covering someone that was not there. She held on to the tray, knuckles turning white and for some silly reason, she could not put it down. As if, by holding on to it she could still be holding on to what she had left in that bed when she had gone down for breakfast.

But the bathing chamber was empty, as was the closet. She went across the hall to check her room, in all the same places and there was just empty space. And she could try to not believe it. She tired her hardest. But when Snow and James appeared at the end of the corridor, hand in hand with commiseration in their features, she could no longer believe. She closed the door to _their_ chamber and slid to the floor.

The tray was still firmly in her hands.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Emma? Please open the door."  
There was something stuck in her throat. Something that made it excruciating to breathe. She realised it was a scream when it came out.

"Snow. Just not now. Please." The voice came out sturdy and whole. Big girls don't cry. Not over silly old hearts that should know better. It was embarrassing and weakening and she knew better.

But the truth is: hearts can break even if they are made of stretchy muscle that can take a beating like a champ. It would be easier if we just keeled over and died when they do break because now she could say with all certainty that all the inspirational bull crap in the hallmark cards was actually the fucked up truth: love is eternal and it would be best to die when love goes away. Except you don't. And whoever had come up with _it is better to have loved and lost _should be shot in the nuts. Twice.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The tray stayed untouched on the stone floor next to her. The scrambled eggs she had made herself ran a strange liquid, the warm bread went stale, the butter congealed, the cut fruit darkened.

It was stupid, the whole thing. She was a grown woman, she had a child and a secure job that required no particular skill set. It couldn't be that one person leaving her life could bother her this much. It was ridiculous, pathetic. She was better than this. Hell, she knew better than this. Regina was probably now laughing her arse off, knowing the damage she had left behind. Regina was that kind of person any way. She fed on other people's misery. Didn't she?

And besides, this could be looked at as a one night stand. Just a really long one. One nighters had been her bread and butter, what was so wrong with this one now?

She just needed to get off her ass, clean up, have this chamber emptied and aired and just go on with her princessy duties. Like… polish her glass slippers and her tiara or something.

No way Emma Swan was going down this easy. No way in hell.

She just needed to catch her breath.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The food on the tray stayed remarkably well preserved. Mostly because the chambers were winter cold and Emma could not be bothered with a fire.

Her thoughts festered. She went from her old staple diet of _it doesn't really matter_ to the absolute novelty of _please god, make it stop_ with a side helping of _all by myself_ complete with visions of herself growing into an old biddy alone in a cottage in the woods, surrounded by pet toads. And that's when the crying jag started. Out of self pity came the self perception: it hurt because of the swell in her heart. It was big and lumpy and unfortunate to carry around and it looked remarkably like Regina and sounded like her and if she thought about it long enough, it smelled like her. That shape in her heart was what hurt. It made her say _I love you_.

The thought that she had not said, not once, _I love you,_ made it clear as water. She did. She did with all her heart and she had not said a word. She was fundamental crap at talking about feelings - and now, there would not be a chance, because Regina was gone.

That was the loss. She never did get to say _I love you_. Oh hellfuckhellfuckhell.

If you've ever cried all night you'll know that there comes a time when there is nothing left, when the hearts goes silent, there is nothing left of you. Not a thing.

And then there was anger.

It _angered_ her, that she seemed to have it all at her fingertips. It made her _furious _that for once her life seemed to be kind and honest and on track to something good. It made her _fume_ that Regina would simply wait for the moment she could walk on her own and puff herself out of their bed without so much as a _nice working with you_.

She levitated an apple from the basket by the window and as her anger grew and fed on itself, more and more apples rose into the air, circling, faster and faster and faster until they were a whirlwind of anger and rage. A small white paper was swooped into the whirling wind and landed on the bed next to Emma, the lettering a bold cursive.

_How lucky am I to find it so difficult to say goodbye._

_R_.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma stared dumbly at the paper in her hand. Had this been the plan all along? Regina's plan?

Henry barged in through the door. "She would not leave without saying goodbye to me. She wouldn't, Emma. So you get off your butt and you go and fix this. Go and fix this now."

Henry was probably too young to understand things like this. She hoped. How the hell was she supposed to know. She had never really been a child herself, forced to grow up fast or succumb to the system. So she handed him the note and hoped that she was not forever scarring the kid.

"Okay. So what, now? Are you just going to let her go and sit there?"

"She knew she was leaving."

"So?"

"So she left. And she didn't say where she was going. How am I supposed to find her. How do I even know she wants to be found?"

"Emma, go and ask Grandma."

"Why?"

"God, sometimes you are just so... dim." He covered his mouth at his outburst, regretting it immediately. To Emma, it just made it blatantly obvious that he was Regina's son as much as hers. "Grandma brought her here. Mom was scared that Snow might send her back. You do the math, cause I'm just 12 and I'm not the one in love with Mom."

"Henry, I'm_"  
"I swear, Emma, if you treat me like a kid I'll scream. I know it okay? I saw you together. I was here too for the last month. Even if you didn't even see me, because you were so focused on her. I get it, okay. And it's... fine. It's great, really. But I want my mom back. I want you to go and get my mom back."

"It hurts..."

"You're not made of glass. Emma?"

Oh, god, was she really snivelling? "Yeah?"

"Yes, not yeah. I've figured out something... The happy endings? They are not a guarantee... Sometimes, you need to work really hard to get one."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The Queen had stood outside her child's chambers and grieved with her. That's all parents can do, sometimes, and it is a difficult lesson to learn. More so for the Queen because they had been friends before they were mother and daughter. The silence and then the sobs on the other side of the door hurt physically in her chest.

Those sobs terrified her too in the choice they presented. She could save her child and reveal herself less than worthy or she could preserve Emma's perception of her and condemn her to heartbreak.

Eventually, it was her last shred of decency, the one she tried her best no to hear, that won out.

.

.

She had the contract in her hand. Funny how she had never realised how potent words could be until it was too late. She could try to fool herself that this was for the best. Or she could cut her child's losses and intervene.

She knocked on the door, setting her game face back in order. There was no reply. Snow knocked and knocked until she was forced to understand that Emma simply would not open the door.

She kicked it down. Hell has no fury as a mother trying to protect her young.

"Emma."

"Later. Just… later, okay?"

"No. Now." And that was as queenly as Snow managed to be. If Emma was not going to listen to her mother, she'd damned well listen to her queen. But when Snow began on where Regina was and how she'd been taken there, her throat simply closed up. There was air but no voice. And when she tried writing, there was ink but no words. And when she tried gesticulating, there was pain, a pain so intense in her chest that she simply collapsed on the bed. When she tried to hand Emma the contract, she was seized by paralysis.

"Henry says you know where she is."

Snow blinked furiously, her eyes pointing at the contract her paralyzed body could not push towards her suffering child.

Emma took the contract from her hand and began to read.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

There was just one word in her mind when Emma began reading the contract she had plucked from Snow's frozen fingers- _fuck- _which, really, was a handy expletive, sort of a one size fits all. She didn't know much about the land she'd been born in, but she'd lived there long enough to know some things don't need a logical explanation, they just are. The moment she plucked up the contract from Snow's hands, her mother's body relaxed. And there really was not point in another of her go to expressions- _what the hell_ - because she was not going to get a reply. But what she saw when she managed to decipher the elaborate characters was that they had agreed to teach Emma and that once Emma was safe, Regina would be repaid for her services with freedom and a cottage in the woods and visits from Henry.

"You had her in the dungeon? For a year?" This was the one question Snow had prayed would not be asked. But she had started so she'd finish. She'd finish and her daughter would hate her forever. But even if she had an explanation, the contract prevented her from speaking, from explaining, from accounting her actions. She merely nodded which was the only thing she could without feeling she'd die.

"Did you take her from me? Was it you?" In way, yes, when she'd set out the terms. But she couldn't have imagined. She couldn't. Her eyes glazed over in pain and still she looked pointedly at the contract.

" Was it this?" Emma waved the parchment of the contract. "Where is the cottage?"

Snow's body seized again. Okay, so contract again.

"When she saved me from the spell… Was it because the contract made her?"

Snow's eyes turned back on her skull. She had something to say, clearly, it just would not let her.

"How do I find her? Mom, please, I know it hurts. How do I find her?"

Snow smiled and teared up a little. Her hand shot to Emma's chest and splayed over Emma's heart before paralysis hit her again. "My heart?" Snow blinked. "Follow my heart?"

The only reply were Snow's falling tears.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

One moment she was safe and warm, the next her body was not hers, just a mass of scattered specks of dust reforming elsewhere. There was a bed but she was on the floor, there were clothes but she was naked. There was a fireplace, but no fire cackling on it.

There was Emma's scent on her skin, but no lover with her. There was the feel of Emma's hands on her, inside her, over her, but no Emma. There was only the absence, the cold, the loneliness she knew by heart. She looked around her. There was a room, a small room with low ceilings and snow covered a garden outside her ivy framed window. A fire came alive on the hearth, warm tea steamed the air next to her bed. Her cottage. Her prize. Her loneliness.

She picked herself up from the floor and stumbled into the cold bed, her body still warm, still lose and sore from the love they had made.

She was taken care of. Food, water and fire when she was too weak to move. But magic is no companion. Magic was just another word for loneliness.

_Alone_ is the worst of words. Nothing can be as wrong, as cruel, as against nature. The cottage was pretty and warm and secluded. There was ivy that lined the walls and a thatched roof, a warm fire, a view of the lake. She wanted for nothing. Except Emma. But every attempt she'd made at going back, every attempt at sending word, she'd end up in agony. Magical contracts are not to be trifled with. It was not like giving up, though. But she needed to build her strength. Rebuild her magic. She had waited a lifetime for this… love. She would wait yet one more if only life was not so short. She could wait a few more months. Even years. But she would find Emma again.

She just needed to get past the crippling weakness that still confined her to the cottage.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She should have taken notes. She should have written down everything Regina taught her about magic, every spell, every nuance, every flick of the wrist. Yeah, she had magic in her blood but she was not so confident right now. Right now she wanted mathematical certainty.

"_So what do I do now? Just click my ruby red heels and say _There's no place like home_?"_

_Regina laughed wholeheartedly. It was sound so heady, so addictive that Emma wanted to hear it again._

"_Something like it. Close your eyes and think where you want to go. Concentrate on that place. Think of it with your heart. That's where your magic is. Your heart." Regina's hand landed light, careful over Emma's heart. "Where do you want to go?"_

Regina. She wanted to go to Regina. Heart pounding madly, she closed her eyes and thought _home_.

And just like the first time, there was only a momentary surge through her blood and she was elsewhere, not entirely sure how she'd done it.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The cottage had a porch that overlooked the lake. It was a good place to sit, even in the cold. She pulled the quilt up to her shoulders, because February is inclement, the worst of the winter really. Inside was lonelier and emptier. If she tried hard enough, she could make believe that she was still sitting by her convalescence window overlooking the lake with Emma tossing breadcrumbs at her. Funny the things you miss.

And then, inside, there was a clutter of falling objects on the stone floor. Probably some animal seeking refuge from the cold. Which was alright, really. She would just catch her breath for a minute and then she would go in and shoo it out. She closed her eyes gathering her still elusive strength, shutting out the greyish blue of the snow threatening sky. "Regina?"

She closed her eyes tighter. It was not the first time she'd heard her name called by Emma's voice. Since being dragged out there by the magic of the contract, she'd heard Emma over and over again. She'd hear her name cursed, sworn, cried. She held on to the sound every single time.

"Gina!" She would not cry. Grown women don't cry. She bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut tight. And then there were hands on her, and she was shaken and suddenly there were arms around her and Emma's young, wild magic scent. When she opened her eyes, Emma's face was less than a hair's breadth away from hers and she had her arms under her knees and was pulling her out of the chair, trying, for sure, to carry her somewhere.

"Emma." She had to touch her because this time it was not in her mind, it was real real real… "Emma!" Her hands tried cupping Emma's face but the position was awkward and Emma was still trying to pick her up from the chair. "Emma, I'm okay. I'm okay. You can put me down."

And as Emma released her hold, Regina could finally take that face in her hands and breathe her in. "I'm alright."

"I thought you were…"

"I'm alright. Just… catching my breath."

"I thought…" But she didn't finish. Her face was too close to Regina's: she just leaned into a kiss, something made out of all the absence, of all the grief and how much they could have lost. When the kiss broke, though breathing was overrated, Emma lowered her head into Regina's knees. "You left. You left me."

"I didn't leave you. I left, that was all." The smile was sad. "I just left. Not you. I didn't leave you."

Superpower or not, Emma would have believed her. It was all there, in the eyes open wide so that the moisture gathering did not become tears.

"Regina I…" _The most important things are the most difficult to say._

There was a hummingbird in Regina's chest, so fast, so fast. She had waited and waited for the words Emma was going to say. She had devoted all her life to hearing them and gone about in all the wrong ways. She wanted to close her eyes in case they didn't come and she wanted to have them wide open in case they did and her breath was catching in her throat. Her hands cupped Emma's face.

"I love you."

And just like that, this was it. Happy. No ever after. Just happy. Here and now. And it was enough and good and complete.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

You wait all your life for things. You go through Christmas and birthdays and still they don't come. You despair and believe that they are not meant for you. And then, one day, there they are.

"I love you." It could not have been easier or simpler. Some things just are, like a the lake behind them or the forest or the mountains. Emma smiled because it was easy. She'd expected that it might hurt or be uncomfortable or simply not come out. But the words came out like they belonged in the air around her. Or like they belonged to the woman before her. "I love you."

Regina nearly fell from her chair, the hurry to catch the words as they were said, maybe afraid they might not be there for long. Emma understood that. She let herself be held in those hands, holding Regina up, just letting herself smile a silly little smile of someone completely besotted with another.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Words are insufficient for certain things, for certain feelings, but they are all we've got in an emergency, like when someone just said _I love you_. It doesn't give you time to go and prove it to them, to go and do all the things you do or would do or want to do for love, for the person you love, so in the end, you just say it back, "I love you too" and hope that there is going to come a moment really soon that will let you show it and prove it. "I love you, Emma." was easy after all and it seemed strange to have something that was easy.

That settled it.

She would have to prove it on a regular basis. "I love you, Emma." And she just let herself fall into those arms around her and grown woman or not, she cried in relief that Emma was really there and that she would not have to struggle through everything all over again.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Were you really going to carry me inside?"

"Yeah."

"Because you thought I was dead?"  
"Sort of, yeah."

"You were going to give to do yourself damage."

"I'm deceptively strong."

"Indeed", Regina touched the smiling cheek that had a little lopsided dimple. "Maybe we should go in. It's chilly out here. I'll let you carry me inside."  
"Are you tired?"  
"No. Not anymore. I'm just letting you be gallant."  
Emma simply slid her hands under Regina's back and knees and prepared to hoist her up. But when she expected to lift a weight almost like her own – and actually have it hurt her back- Regina simply floated in her arms, light as a feather. Regina smiled delighted. "Look who's got a sense of humour."

"One of my best qualities, dear." But she leaned on Emma's shoulder.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma deposited Regina on the bed and lay down next to her, on her side so that she could see Regina better. She studied the bags under the eyes and the thin sheen of sweat the levitation spell had put there. "How are you feeling?"

"Now? Better."

Emma ran her fingers through the black hair, the face so pretty it hurt sometimes, and pulled the woman to her, craving the warmth, the presence, the body, the vitality of her if only just to reassure herself that everything was okay, that there was no distance, no goodbye.

Her mouth sought out Regina's in a hungry kiss, and when she heard the now familiar whimper of need, she let go of the control she'd held on. She rolled onto Regina, settling easily into the cradle of that body she knew so well, tracing kisses, long and hungry from neck to breast, elbow to knee, navel to foot. She opened the ties on the shirt, revealing the body it covered, the dips and the swells, the scent, the smoothness, the dark grey webbing that still marred it. She kissed each of these grey lines to which she owed her life.

"I don't think it will go away." Regina tried to close her clothes, but Emma's only response was to kiss more, to trace each one with her fingers.

"If it doesn't hurt you, it's okay."

"It's ugly."

"Yes, a little. But it's part of you. We're not all pretty and perfect." And she devoted herself to that skin, to kissing and touching. "And you are so beautiful." Small fingers slowly released the shirt, letting Emma slide it off, gently onto the pristine bed. Emma kissed Regina's poisoned skin and her healthy skin, no difference between one or the other and it was that, more than anything that relaxed Regina. She felt no debt being paid, just her lover loving her. She relaxed into Emma's touch and let herself be made love to.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It may well be because they were in the shadow of the Enchanted Forest, heart of Fairy Tale Land, but right now life was the easiest it had even been. With a thought, Emma started a fire in the hearth close to their bed.

"I'm impressed, Princess."

"That's good. Is it likely to make you more agreeable to sexual favours?"

"You don't need to impress me any further. You have made a suitable impression so far that will last you quite some time."

"Yeah? I thought you were not easily impressed."

"You saved my life. That impressed sufficiently."

"Then we're even."  
"How do you figure?"  
"You saved me from freezing to death."  
"Ah, yes. You just had to remind me of one of your most dim witted moments…" Emma simply shrugged. Yes, there was no denying that particular level of moronitis but damned if she was going to explain the why and the what for of that not so shinny moment. Guilt tripping when you're basking in post coital bliss is a disservice to sex. "We'll call it even, then."

"Come to think of it, I think we are not exactly even. I mean… look, it's been four weeks since the ball. And I was here all the time. I juggled apples for you!" But all that Regina heard was _four weeks _playing on a loop. Had it been that long? Had it been that bad? "So, you know, I'd say that a _thank you_ is in order."

"Thank you."

"Say _thank you_ with gifts… or sexual favours. Whichever is handier…"

There you go: a reality check at every turn of phrase. She slid into Emma's open arms and just let her body mould itself to the warmth and the strength. Emma closed her arms around her.

"I don't think any amount of sexual favours will ever repay what you did, Miss Swan."  
"Are we back to the titles, Ms Mills? Anyway, I think we can give it a try. I can let you know how you're progressing…"

Regina's smile was easy but not uncomplicated. No, Emma did not know she had saved more than a body. That's not how you save a life. Emma had stayed with her, through thick and thin. And when there had not been magic enough to break the spell, there had been her heart.

"You saved me, Emma. In all the ways you could have saved me." She took Emma's hand and pressed it against her heart. "You broke my curse."

"Don't, Gina. Just don't. I kissed you that night, alright? I kissed you and it didn't work. I told you I did not have enough magic."

"And you think that magic is just breaking curses with kisses? That is the easiest thing to do. Just ask your parents. You stayed with me. All this time, you never left. You healed me one tiny fragment at a time. Not just here," her hand pressed into her tainted skin. "But here." Her hand slid over her heart. "I never… never had that. It was never about kisses, Emma. You just stayed. You stayed." And that was that.

"Now what?" Emma asked, pulling Regina closer into her, adjusting the covers to their cooling bodies.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… Is this what you want, this cottage, the independence or… Where do you want us to live from now on? Here or the palace? With the in-laws..."  
"Us?"

"Is there something wrong with my question?"  
"No… No. Nothing at all." Regina buried her face into Emma's arm. "But you are the princess and I am the Evil Queen."  
"And?"  
"Maybe it's best if you just come to visit. When you feel like it." Emma actually pushed Regina back a little just to take the measure of the woman's words as she spoke them. "You are the princess, Emma. You can't be playing house with someone. Especially me. You were born into privilege. But with it come specific obligations."  
"Gina, can the crap. One, you're not a queen anymore. That's half your objection blown out of the water. And second… you can be a bitch sometimes. 'Cause you are. But evil is just ridiculous, now."

"People don't change, Emma. We just want to believe they do."

"Jeez, just tell me you don't want me, will you? You're not evil, Regina. You're not evil. No anymore. Evil is who evil does."

"Emma. That's not even good English"

"No it's Forrest Gump English. You must picture it with a southern accent. _Stoopid is who soopid does, momma always said_. I'm, just taking liberties with it."

"Forrest Gump?"

"Oh god, I'm stuck in this land without TV. My point is…"

"Oh, you have one?"

"Yeah." She pushed Regina onto her back. "This," she said her fingers trailing each of the lines of that dark web on Regina's body, "Was not contractual obligation. It was not a game move. This was you. Saving my life. That's not evil."

"Sometimes, Emma, it is difficult. To keep being good."

"Why would you think it is easy for anyone?"

"Isn't it?"

"Hell no. Do you know how many heads I want to smash against the nearest wall on a daily basis? Snow keeping you in a dungeon for a year? But I'll tell you what: you trust me. Be with me. Here, there, wherever you choose. So far we had no incidents. I must rub off on you."

"Rub on me, at any rate."  
"Funny. Please. Let me try to make you happy."

The most important things are the most difficult to say but to keep them inside? To lock them away? They rot you to the core, make you bitter, sink you into the worst part of you.

"Emma, I'm not an easy person. But I have… let's call it a handicap. I will get mean and snappy and jealous and..."  
"Way to sell it Regina…"

"No, Emma, listen, what I'm trying to say is that I'm moody, I can be jealous, sometimes, even borderline homicidal, but… I need you to promise me that you're okay with that… I need you to be sure Emma. I can wait. I can not have you. I can wait for you to visit. I just don't think I can survive losing anyone else. Losing you, you see?"

"We'll be together forever, Regina. Just wait and see. Maybe even longer."

"Forever is a long time, Emma."

"Just you wait, Regina. Just you wait."

"You know what I thought when you first rolled into my town in that death trap of yours?" Emma shook her head. "Henry just shot past me and I thought _Here I am, alone in the dark and no one sees me_. But it was not true, was it?"

"No, it wasn't."

"I didn't know that. You saw me. But I didn't know that, not then."  
"You're catching up…"

"Huh…" The smile was small, but it was a smile. "Forever, then."

"Yep. Buckle up, Regina."

_._

There are so many ways to say I love you.

_The End._

* * *

**Author's note:** I wish I had a brilliant way to say _thank you_ to all of you who reviewed, followed, favorited. The blog mentions, the PM's... everything. I was... still am- amazed and not a little bowled over. This was supposed to be a modest story and it turned into this buzz.

You have spoiled me forever.

So thank you. From the heart.

Much love

Jane


End file.
